


surrounded but still alone

by lazyfish



Series: so i'll go back to l.a. [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hollywood, Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Positivity, Getting Together, Miscommunication, Multi, Oblivious Bobbi Morse, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Stubborn Bobbi Morse, background Pipsy, idiots to lovers, revenge porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:07:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 50,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22801465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: Bobbi Morse doesn’t recognize herself anymore. She had promised her family a career as a model wouldn’t change her, but it’s hard not to change when surrounded by the glitz and glamour of Los Angeles. When her childhood best friend, a handsome new photographer, and the man she almost married show up in town (and all at the same party, no less), Bobbi’s not thrilled - but she has to admit they might be just what she needs to feel like herself again.Beta'd by Gort.
Relationships: Bobbi Morse & Agent Piper, Leo Fitz/Lance Hunter/Bobbi Morse/Jemma Simmons
Series: so i'll go back to l.a. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151429
Comments: 138
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

There was one thing about Los Angeles Bobbi still hadn’t gotten sick of: the night sky. In the city proper the light pollution was too bad to see much of anything, but when she drove out into the desert, the stars began to appear. There still weren’t nearly as many as she remembered seeing in her little Ohio hometown, but if that was the price to pay for the glitz and glamour of L.A., Bobbi would accept it. 

She slid to a smooth stop at the side of the road - it had been easy to see the bonfire as she approached, and she had heard the music pounding from the speakers even with her car windows rolled up. Bobbi took a deep breath of desert air, letting the dryness of it fill her lungs. It was still close enough to sunset that there was some heat left clinging to the air and to the asphalt under her shoes, but it wouldn’t last long now that the night had begun. 

Bobbi was just going to need to find someone to keep her warm. _That_ was hardly a difficult task.

She beeped the lock to her car and shoved her keys into the small clutch she was holding. Desert parties didn’t have as strict of a dress code as others, but she still liked to look her best. She never did know when cameras were going to be on around, even if they weren’t focused on her. Even looking sloppy in the background of someone else’s shot could spell doom and disaster for someone whose career was built on looking good.

Someone pressed a White Claw into her hand and Bobbi popped the tab, taking a swig. It hadn’t been in the cooler long enough, and she grimaced at the heat of the drink, which had rendered the seltzer almost completely flat. If she didn’t need the buzz she would’ve just poured it into the sand, but as it was, Bobbi needed a little liquid courage. She had turned down a modelling job earlier that day, and even though it definitely hadn’t been worth her time, it always felt a little weird to say no to someone. She was getting better at it, though - she had to since living in the city and striking out on her own.

“Bobbi!”

She tried not to smirk as she turned around. She hadn’t even been on the scene for a minute and someone was trying to get her attention.

“Oh, hey, Piper.” Bobbi took another sip of her drink as she greeted the shorter woman. “What’s up?”

“You know, the usual.” Piper shrugged one shoulder, and the leather jacket she was wearing slipped down, revealing a tanned shoulder. Bobbi was used to seeing a lot of Piper, since they had worked on more jobs together than Bobbi could count on both hands. (Piper also wasn’t her type, but she hadn’t seemed to realize Bobbi wasn’t straight yet, so that was a moot point.) “I didn’t think I’d see you here tonight.”

“You invited me,” Bobbi said, arching an eyebrow. “Was I meant to say no?”

“Just thought you might have something better to do.” They were on the edge of the firelight, but even if they had been in broad daylight Bobbi wouldn’t have been able to interpret the smile Piper flashed at her. It could have been a challenge, but it also could’ve just been a smile, and Bobbi wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“I don’t think there’s anything better than a party,” Bobbi answered with a smile of her own. “Plus, free booze.”

Piper snorted. “Free warm booze.”

“Eh.” Beggars couldn’t be choosers - though Bobbi didn’t really have to beg. “You working on Monday?” she asked instead of continuing the small talk about alcohol. 

“I’m assuming you are?” Piper said instead of actually answering the question.

“Yeah. Some summer collection.” It wasn’t the most interesting work, but it was better than the pitch she had turned down earlier, which was some horseshit about being your best self. The feel-good jobs never actually felt as good as expected. At least everywhere else was honest about how they only liked her body.

“Maybe I’ll see you there.” Piper lifted her beer in a silent goodbye before going to greet another group of people ducking out of a Tesla. Bobbi rolled her eyes - a Tesla? Really? - before chugging the rest of her drink. She held onto the empty can until she spotted a cooler with a black garbage bag beside it. She tossed the empty into the bag and picked up another White Claw, which was apparently all there was to drink other than IPAs. Bobbi normally didn’t like her liquor accompanied by so much sugar, and it was difficult as hell to get drunk off White Claws, but it was almost worth sparing her tastebuds the horror of the IPA. 

Bobbi floated closer to the bonfire, unsurprised to find the people there were mostly nobodies. Anyone who had someone to talk to didn’t need the crutch of the bonfire, and a tendril of resentment wormed through Bobbi. She should’ve had someone better to talk to than _Piper_. 

A stiff breeze blew, and Bobbi shuffled closer to the fire. Just as she suspected, the night was already gaining an edge. She took another swig of her drink, but the seltzer didn’t have enough alcohol to trigger the hot sensation in her gut. Bobbi’s eyes skirted around the circle of the bonfire again, searching for someone she might be able to cuddle up to when the temperature dropped even further.

What she found instead was a face that was unexpectedly familiar. Bobbi squinted, but she couldn’t be sure if the firelight was playing tricks on her or not. She wasn’t drunk enough to be hallucinating yet, but why the hell else would _Jemma Simmons_ be at the same party she was at?

She circled around the edge of the fire until she was close enough to confirm it was really Jemma who was clutching onto a plastic water bottle and chattering nervously to a man Bobbi didn’t recognize. At least she hadn’t been wrong about the people around the fire being nobodies, Bobbi thought wryly as she finally got close enough to tap Jemma on the elbow.

The other woman turned, her mouth widening into an almost-comical o shape when she saw Bobbi.

“Hi,” Bobbi said, because how the hell else was she supposed to greet _Jemma_? She hadn’t spoken to Jemma in years, not since Bobbi had left Ohio. It was surreal to see her childhood best friend standing right in front of her, equally shocked but with a smile tugging on the edges of her lips. 

“Bobbi!?” Jemma asked, the smile growing.

“The one and only.” Bobbi grinned, her cheeks aching with the size of it. A moment later she had an armful of Jemma and a mouthful of her friend’s hair. The suddenness of the hug knocked a surprised laugh out of Bobbi, and she was still laughing when Jemma let go. Bobbi brushed a few strands of brunette hair off where they had gotten caught in her lip gloss.

“It’s been so long!” Jemma exclaimed. She turned to the man she had been talking to, still smiling. “Bobbi, this is my friend Leo Fitz. Fitz, this is my ex-next door neighbor, Bobbi. We’ve known each other since we were kids. She’s a model - you are still a model, right?” 

“Yup, still am.” Bobbi nodded. “Jemma, what are you doing here?” She ignored the man; Bobbi was much more interested in Jemma’s reappearance into her life. It seemed almost too good to be true, in an oddly nerve-wracking sort of way.

“Oh, um… It’s kind of a long story.” Even in the dim light of the fire, Bobbi could see the flush spreading across Jemma’s cheeks. “But I’m kind of an actress now? I suppose?”

“She is,” Fitz interrupted. Bobbi startled at the thick Scottish brogue, and brushed away a pesky thought about another man with an accent that dared to cross her mind. “She’d bloody brilliant at it, too. Everyone says she’s a rising star.”

Bobbi bit back an unkind comment; she hadn’t heard anything about a rising star, and she was sure she was more in touch with the city’s pulse than Fitz, whoever the hell he was.

“And what do you do?” Bobbi asked smoothly, sipping her drink to hide how little she actually cared about the answer.

“Fitz is a photographer,” Jemma answered for him. Bobbi blinked, looking between the pair. She hadn’t heard anything about Leo Fitz before she left home, but that didn’t mean much - Jemma could’ve easily met and fallen in love with someone in the intervening four years. She didn’t ask questions she didn’t want to know the answers to, though.

“So you’re in the city? Permanently?” Bobbi pushed.

Jemma nodded. “I was going to call you but…”

“Things get busy,” Bobbi finished with a nod. She had barely kept in contact with anyone from home in the first few months after moving; there were just too many things to do, too many people to meet, too many places to see. Even now Bobbi didn’t think she’d seen or done enough. There were always bigger, better things - that was what made Los Angeles so intoxicating.

“Yes,” Jemma said with a relieved sigh. “I don’t know how you’ve done it for so long. And balancing a relationship on top of that, too?”

Bobbi stiffened. That was her answer about Jemma and Fitz, but also an unpleasant reminder of someone from her past she would rather stay in her past. “It gets easier,” Bobbi promised. 

“I certainly hope so.” Jemma said, wringing her hands. Bobbi’s earlier grin had faded, but she couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at her lips when she saw Jemma twisting her fingers. She had done that so often when they were kids - Bobbi had always teased her about pulling her fingers off, and Jemma had always said having no fingers would be better than being so nervous. Things had been easier then, Bobbi mused as she reached to still Jemma’s hands.

“Why don’t we have coffee sometime?” Bobbi suggested. “You can tell me more about what you’re up to and I can show you some of the city.”

“That would be great.” Jemma was smiling again, and despite the cool of the night, Bobbi felt warm. She had forgotten how Jemma had made her feel when they were kids. For all of her worrying, when Jemma was around, Bobbi was confident things would turn out alright. Even if was more than a little weird for Jemma to show up, it wasn’t a bad thing.

“I won’t keep you any longer,” Jemma said. “I’m sure Hunter’s waiting for you.”

Bobbi almost choked on her drink. Hunter was here? 

Obviously. Jemma wouldn’t have said something if he wasn’t. Bobbi swallowed the rest of her cough, trying to steady herself. She hadn’t spoken to Hunter in a long time, either. But now Jemma was expecting her to go back to him, and pretending to get lost in the ever-thickening crowd was preferable to explaining that she and her fiancé had called it quits over a year ago. 

“Is your number still the same?” Bobbi asked, desperate to stall a few more seconds.

“Yeah. You still have it?”

“Of course I still have it,” Bobbi answered. Even if she had never contacted Jemma after the text to let her friend know her flight had landed in California, she had never deleted the number. It was still under her favorites in her phone, still with the stupid smiley face emoji Jemma had insisted was necessary. 

Bobbi would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought about calling Jemma often, especially recently. But it had been too late, and Bobbi had mostly made peace with losing the person she had once loved the most in the world. She had gotten good at that - at forgetting the past. It was easier than hurting over something she couldn’t change.

“Text me, then.” 

Bobbi got one last Jemma Simmons smile before she was shooed away to find her not-really-fiancé. Fitz seemed relieved that he was going to have Jemma’s undivided attention again, and Bobbi couldn’t blame him. Being Jemma’s only focus was a good feeling, one Bobbi had almost lost to time. She vowed to actually text Jemma, now that she had a second chance. She had plenty of friends in the city, Bobbi told herself, but none of them were Jemma.

Rather than mingle with people she didn’t care about, Bobbi decided to throw away her second empty drink and see if she could maybe find a water bottle like the one Jemma had been holding onto. The party was picking up steam, but it wasn’t holding Bobbi’s interest the way it normally did. If she had her way she’d get to talk to Jemma for the rest of the night, but that would mean making an excuse for Hunter, and the thought made Bobbi’s stomach turn. She never wanted to think about Hunter, but it seemed like he occupied her brain more often than not. Bobbi shook the thought away as she tossed the second can into the garbage bag. It was getting full, which meant the cooler was probably empty. Bobbi sighed when she flipped the lid up and found her prediction to be true. So much for getting drunk and going home with somebody.

“Looking for something?”

Bobbi turned towards the familiar voice, mouth dry. Hunter had to know he was talking to her, right? She would recognize him anywhere, even if he was bent over a cooler. Hell, she would probably recognize him better bent over - his ass was one of his best features. Bobbi bit her lip, She shouldn’t have been having those thoughts about her ex.

“Just water.” Her voice was in danger of cracking, and Bobbi swallowed hard.

“You can have mine,” Hunter offered, handing her the bottle he was holding, still unopened.

“No, it’s fine.” Bobbi resisted the urge to step back, knowing that would send her tripping over the cooler. “I’ll just head home.”

“Are you good to drive?” He arched an eyebrow.

Bobbi’s lips thinned into a line. “Why do you care?”

“Surprisingly, I don’t want you dead, Bob. And I don’t want you making anyone else dead, either.” Hunter sat on top of the cooler, and Bobbi felt slightly better when she was looking down at him even more than usual.

“You saw Jemma,” Bobbi whispered, moving the conversation away from her sobriety or lack thereof. Even if she didn’t feel much more than a buzz - two seltzers wasn’t much, all things considered - Hunter was probably right that she should wait a bit before getting behind the wheel. There were worse ways to pass the time than to talk to her ex.

Hunter nodded, unscrewing the top of his water. “She seemed to be under the impression we were still together.”

“What was I going to say? Hey, haven’t spoken to you in two years, but I’m not actually getting married? Love you, bye?”

Hunter winced. “Fair.”

“Next time I see her I’ll set it straight. I just… didn’t know you’d be here.”

“Ditto.”

It was a surprisingly civil conversation, all things considered. Maybe it was the time since they had broken up, maybe it was the fact they were both not entirely sober, maybe it was a different factor entirely, but Bobbi didn’t want to argue with Hunter. In fact, she kind of wanted to kiss him. _Really_ wanted to kiss him. 

He passed her the water without asking, and Bobbi took a sip. When she handed the bottle back, she also lowered herself onto the cooler beside Hunter. She had intended to keep space between them, but it was near-impossible with the size of the cooler and how she had to angle her legs to keep every passerby from catching an eyeful of her underwear.

Their knees jostled together and their hands brushed as they rearranged themselves. Bobbi tried not to think about how she had just touched Hunter more in the past two minutes than she had in all the year before combined. Someone had started playing music out of their car’s speakers and conversations were buzzing louder and louder, but Bobbi felt like she was in a bubble. No matter how much noise was around them, if she and Hunter were quiet, the world was quiet. 

“Your hands are freezing.”

Bobbi swallowed around the lump in her throat. How had he noticed that when their hands hadn’t done more than graze each other? More than that, why did he care?

“It’s cold,” Bobbi said slowly. She could see a hundred ways this conversation could end, and most of them would get her into trouble.

“Here.” Hunter shrugged off his jacket and before Bobbi could protest, he was slinging it around her shoulders. 

She wanted to ask him why he was doing this, why he was acting like things were still the same between them. The best answer she could come up with was that he was keeping up the charade in case Jemma was watching, but that didn’t make sense. Bobbi didn’t know where Jemma was, but the chance of her being within their line of sight was slim, with as many people as were now packed around the bonfire.

“Hunter…”

“I know.”

Bobbi didn’t understand how he could know what she was about to say, not when _she_ didn’t even have an idea, but she couldn’t force any more words out.

The jacket was soft and familiar; even though she couldn’t see it in the low light, Bobbi knew which one it was. She had given it to him three Christmases ago and proceeded to steal it every possible opportunity.

There was too much nostalgia tonight, Bobbi decided. She’d have rather stayed home and been alone and miserable than be surrounded by memories of a past she couldn’t go back to. Her life had changed, and pretending it hadn’t wasn’t going to do anyone any good. Even with that decision, though, she couldn’t make herself get up. It was enough to keep her from leaning into Hunter the way she desperately wanted to, but leaving was out of the question. 

She and Hunter passed the bottle of water back and forth between them until it was empty, and then Hunter held onto it while they watched people dance around the bonfire, utterly disregarding their safety. Someone must’ve gotten more booze, because there were shouts that were nothing short of drunken. 

“Do you want to dance?” Hunter asked long after their shared drink was empty.

“I should go.” Bobbi’s head didn’t spin even a little when she stood up, and she took that to mean she was fine to drive. It was early to leave the party, but she was afraid of what she would do if she danced with Hunter.

Hunter shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Drive safe, then.”

“I will.”

Bobbi didn’t realize she was still wearing his jacket until she was already home and preparing to change into her pajamas. She grabbed her phone and opened her contacts. Right above Jemma’s name in her favorites list was Hunter - another relic of the past she hadn’t been able to let go of. She could text him, Bobbi thought as she blinked at the bright screen in the darkness of her bedroom.

What would she even say?

_Hey, you forgot your jacket._

_Hey, just realized I didn’t give you your jacket back._

_Hey, I stole your jacket._

_Hey, I’m repossessing my gift to you._

_Hey, I still love you._

Definitely not the last one. She didn’t still love him, Bobbi thought as she stripped off the jacket. She was just feeling wistful after seeing Jemma again. It was nothing. 

Bobbi punched the power button to her phone so Hunter’s name would stop staring up at her. She would unfavorite his contact in the morning and hope he didn’t miss the jacket enough to contact her about it. Maybe he had even deleted her number the way she hadn’t been strong enough to delete his. 

She blew out a sigh as she pulled on her pajama pants and tank top, sliding under her covers. It was warmer in the city than it had been in the desert - all the asphalt meant heat got trapped more easily - but Bobbi needed the comfort of being surrounded. It was either get under her sheets or put the jacket back on, and one of them was the lesser of two evils.

It took longer than it should’ve for Bobbi to fall asleep, but when she did, she didn’t dream. 


	2. Chapter 2

On Monday, Bobbi woke up content. Her Sunday had been spent lazing around her apartment, mostly in the impossibly-large bed she had splurged on when she got her first ever modelling paycheck. She had been able to forget most of the events of Saturday’s party, including her unfortunate run-in with her ex. Hunter’s jacket was stashed in the back corner of the closet in her guest room, where she wouldn’t be tempted to wear it again. She could move on with her life… as soon as she met with Jemma and mentioned she wasn’t engaged anymore. After a brief text conversation they had decided to meet on Friday, which gave Bobbi plenty of time to figure out how to break the news without breaking her own damn heart.

Until then, though, Bobbi had work to do. She took a quick shower and threw her hair up in a messy bun, sliding into sweatpants and a ratty tee. They had everything they needed for hair and makeup at the shoot, and any effort she put into her appearance now would just be undone to make her as close to the director’s vision as possible. 

Even at six in the morning the streets of Los Angeles were crowded, and Bobbi flipped through radio stations listlessly. Nothing was catching her attention, which was disappointing despite how often it happened. When she had first moved to Los Angeles and Hunter was still looking for work, he would drive to work with her and hang out in her trailer while she modelled. They’d spend the mornings wedding planning or talking about nothing in particular or simply being together. That had stopped when Hunter had found a steady job of his own, but for those few months, Bobbi had actually enjoyed her commute.

She sighed, reaching to turn the volume of the music up a few notches. Even if the song wasn’t any good, it would at least drown out her thoughts. Bobbi succeeded in ignoring the nibbling thoughts of Hunter for the rest of the drive, and even up until when she parked. When she checked her texts, though - she always managed to get at least one during her commute - Jemma was asking if Hunter would be at their lunch date, too. Bobbi fired off a simple _No_ as a response, and then made her way to hair and makeup.

The makeup artist and hair stylist were quiet and efficient as they worked to get her into the first look. The artistic director was hovering nearby, verbally repeating the brief Bobbi had received by email. Nothing about it had changed; she was still going to be prancing around in bikinis and summer wear. At least there were no high heels in sight, not when the outfits were supposed to be worn on beaches. 

After her hair was teased into beachy waves, Bobbi was handed an outfit and shooed off to get changed. The bikini was predictably skimpy, but the material was nice and the color was flattering against her skin tone, so Bobbi was calling it a win. When she emerged from the changing room, Piper was waiting. Bobbi raised her hand in greeting but didn’t engage in conversation. They were on a schedule and she wasn’t out to get a reputation for making shoots run behind.

She was herded into the main shooting area, and Bobbi did a double take when she saw who was behind the B-camera. 

“Jemma’s boy,” she greeted, padding up to - shit, what was his name? It started with a P. Or maybe a G?

“Just Fitz,” he grunted, removing his face from the viewfinder of the camera to peer up at her. Not a P or a G, then.

“Right.” Bobbi smiled at him. She hadn’t noticed on Saturday night that he had rather brilliant blue eyes and a nice ass. Jemma had good taste, if she was ever planning on hitting that. “I didn’t know I’d be seeing you here.”

Fitz gave her a look that was just shy of a glare. “You and Jemma weren’t interested.”

Bobbi refused to blush. She had every right to be excited to see Jemma again after years of no contact. Even if she had asked after Fitz, how the hell was she supposed to know he’d be photographing one of her shoots? 

“I’m interested now,” she said steadily, continuing to meet his gaze.

“Lucky me,” Fitz muttered. Bobbi probably wasn’t supposed to hear that.

“I’ll let you get back to your work, then,” she said, giving Fitz a winning smile. There was something decidedly interesting about someone who didn’t care about her flirting with him. And Fitz hadn’t even looked at her boobs once.

Oh, he was totally gay. That explained why he hadn’t made a move on Jemma, _and_ why he seemed totally unaffected by a bunch of half-naked women prancing around. 

He gave her a curt nod before turning back to his equipment, and Bobbi bit her lip as she padded back to where the other models were standing in a loose circle, giggling to each other. 

“Talking to Fitz?” one of the girls asked

Bobbi’s eyebrows shot up. They knew who Fitz was? And _he_ was the one they were laughing about? That just made the whole thing a hundred times more intriguing.

“Yeah. Friend of a friend,” she said. It wasn’t even a lie, which felt nice.

“Isn’t he _dreamy_?”

Bobbi’s jaw tensed slightly. She wasn’t going to answer the question and then find herself embarrassed. “Isn’t he gay?”

Piper rolled her eyes. “He has a bi pride pin on his camera bag.”

Bobbi didn’t see why that answer merited eye-rolling, but it at least made her feel better about her non-existent gaydar. Fitz wasn’t _gay_ , but he was interested in men. It was patently unfair that she, a person who _needed_ a gaydar, seemed to have none. But that was a different complaint for a different time; Fitz was back on the menu, and Bobbi was going to get him. Partially because she wanted him, and partially because she didn’t have anyone else to have him. For Jemma’s sake, of course. If Jemma was planning some sort of slowburn thing with Fitz, it would be better for all involved parties if he didn’t get tangled up with a model. Or rather, get tangled up with a model who wasn’t Bobbi.

The other girls began prodding at Bobbi about Fitz, and she gave vague answers in exchange for information about how long he had been in town. He had just arrived a month ago, and never was the lead photographer, but his baby blue eyes had trapped many a model in their depths. He hadn’t agreed to go out with anyone yet, though. Apparently that made him more attractive rather than less.

Their gossip session was cut short when the photographers announced they were ready and the director began barking orders to the various models.

Modelling was simultaneously exhausting and effortlessly. Bobbi didn’t think it was narcissistic to say she had always known she was pretty, but there was more to modelling than just having a nice body or clear skin. It was about knowing how to command a room, how to draw people’s eyes to you, how to make every piece of clothing look as flattering as possible - even when the clothing in question was so skimpy it could barely be counted as clothing at all.

Smiling for as long as required wasn’t any small feat, either. Bobbi’s cheeks were aching after the first hour, and she was glad when they took a break to change outfits and get makeup touch-ups. Bobbi shivered as the makeup artist touched up her eyeliner. Outside the beams of the bright studio lights the air conditioning was on full-blast, and it wasn’t like the bikini was providing her any warmth.

“Here,” a gruff voice said.

Bobbi turned to find Fitz standing behind her chair, holding a coverup.

“Isn’t this outside the realm of your job?” Bobbi asked as she took the robe from him. It wasn’t thick, but it was better than nothing.

“I had some questions for you and the director asked me to,” Fitz said shortly. The makeup artist finished with Bobbi’s touchup, leaving her free to slide into the robe and follow Fitz to his camera setup.

“You’re too tall,” Fitz said bluntly. “Or at least, that’s what he thinks.” Fitz jabbed his thumb over his shoulder to where the director was talking to the lead photographer. 

Bobbi’s lips turned down. She had never been told to her face she was too tall, but she heard it in the ways photographers called her _difficult to frame_ or whatever bullshit they wanted to spout. It wasn’t a question, though, and Bobbi didn’t know how to respond to the news the director was considering kicking her off the shoot. Hadn’t he read the information her agent sent in with her portfolio? She hadn’t ever made an effort to hide her height from anyone. Besides, couldn’t a good photographer take pictures of anyone?

“Why are you telling me this?” He hadn’t seemed like her biggest fan earlier that morning.

“Because you mean a lot to Jemma.”

Bobbi could appreciate the honesty, even if it did make her feel like squirming. “Okay. And what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Just trust me.” Fitz smiled then, and Bobbi blinked. It wasn’t the sort of smile she was used to seeing - strained around the edges, just a tad fake. It was small but bright, with a little mischief sprinkled in for good measure. She wouldn’t mind seeing that smile more.

“Consider yourself trusted.” Bobbi didn’t have much of a choice. There was the possibility Fitz was lying to her, but Bobbi couldn’t see why he would do that, unless he was hoping she would cause a scene and get herself fired. That didn’t seem like the kind of person Jemma would be friends with, though. 

“Good.” Fitz walked away before Bobbi could get another word in edgewise. He immediately approached the director and began conversing with him. Bobbi turned away, not sure she wanted to watch Fitz fighting for her future.

She wasn’t asked to leave the shoot before they resumed, so Bobbi assumed whatever plan Fitz had concocted was a success. She didn’t notice any difference between the first part of the shoot and the second, but she wouldn’t have known what differences to look for.

When everything was said and done, it was just past five in the evening. Fitz was busy packing up his camera equipment when Bobbi came out of the dressing room, once again in her sweatpants, though she still had on her residual makeup from the shoot and her hair was decidedly less haphazard.

“Thank you,” she said when she was within earshot.

“It was for Jemma,” Fitz dismissed.

“But you still did it, and I’d like to thank you properly.” Since Fitz didn’t seem interested in having sex with her, the words had an entirely different connotation. “Dinner, my treat?”

“Your fiancé won’t be mad that you’re going out with another man?” Fitz asked, just a touch of acid in his voice.

Bobbi blinked. Right, Fitz had heard her whole exchange with Jemma, where she hadn’t denied having a fiancé. “Hunter and I broke up, but there wasn’t exactly a good time to tell Jemma about it,” she said after a long pause. “I’m going to tell her when we have coffee on Friday.”

“And I’m not your rebound?” Fitz asked. He finished his packing and straightened. Bobbi’s eyes skirted over the camera bag - yup, there was the bi pride pin Piper had been so miffed about - before settling back on Fitz. He was trying to make himself seem taller, which was cute. If he had known Hunter, Fitz would’ve realized Bobbi didn’t give a damn about her partners’ heights. 

“I already had a rebound,” Bobbi snorted. “His name was Grant and he was a tool.”

“Everyone who’s named Grant is a tool,” Fitz agreed.

“It doesn’t have to be a date if you don’t want it to be a date,” Bobbi said, though she was _really_ hoping he’d want it to be a date, now that her situation with Hunter was cleared up. 

“Where were you thinking?” Fitz asked, gesturing for Bobbi to begin walking with him. She settled in step beside him as they headed for the parking lot, standing closer to him than she needed to.

“There’s a burger place not far from my apartment that’s good. Not too crowded most of the time, either.” Bobbi didn’t know how Coulson’s Diner managed to stay as empty as it did when it had the best burgers she had ever tasted, but she wasn’t going to complain.

“Models are allowed to eat burgers?”

Bobb huffed out a sigh. “We’re allowed to eat whatever, you know. And Coulson’s has salads, too.” 

Bobbi could spend the rest of the night lecturing Fitz on modelling and dietary restrictions, though she didn’t think he’d appreciate that. She wanted to look good, so she wasn’t going to eat a burger every meal - but no one should consume that much red meat anyways. Not to mention, Coulson’s salads were _good_. She wasn’t going to be ordering one, just to make a point, but the salads didn’t taste like watered-down sadness like they did at some places.

She gave Fitz the address to the diner and managed to arrive there just a minute ahead of him. They went inside together and were seated in a booth in the back corner. Bobbi didn’t recognize the waitress - she must have been new. 

After she and Fitz were situated, Bobbi gave him time to look over the menu. She already knew what she wanted and she wanted to get to eating as soon as possible; she didn’t want to delay him making his choice.

They ordered their food and drinks - Fitz had decided on a burger as well, though he had opted to get a milkshake for his meal while Bobbi chose water - and then looked at each other for a bit. Bobbi was waiting for Fitz to make the first move, but he was obviously expecting her to do the same.

“So, how did you meet Jemma?” Bobbi asked, deciding their mutual friend was a safe subject of conversation. Not the most titillating, but safe. 

“She and I met when we were both new to the city.”

“So, last month.” Bobbi quirked an eyebrow.

Fitz pinkened slightly. “Yes, last month.”

“And you two hit it off,” Bobbi surmised.

“Yeah. Fitz’s milkshake arrived and he busied himself with unwrapping the straw and taking a sip. “How did you know?”

“When you got here?” Bobbi waited for Fitz to nod before continuing. “Oh, apparently you’ve made quite an impression on the modelling scene. The girls are all after you.”

Fitz choked on his milkshake. “What!?”

“I would _kill_ for those baby blues,” Bobbi simpered. “He’s so good with that camera, I wonder what else he’s good with?”

Bobbi laughed when her impression of the other models took Fitz from slightly pink to tomato red.

“Would it be wild to assume the reason you haven’t taken any of them up on their offer is because you have your eyes set on someone else?” Bobbi asked, propping her chin forward on her hand. Fitz insisted he and Jemma were just friends, but his blush when asked about her suggested something different.

“I’m not set on anyone.”

“Could you be?” Bobbi asked, nudging Fitz’s foot under the table. She could see the gears turning in his brain, and Bobbi bit back a sigh. He was either oblivious or really not into her. The former she could deal with - the latter, not so much. She had already had her rebound from Hunter, like she’d told Fitz, but it was always easier not to think about him when there was somebody else in her bed.

“I could be,” Fitz said slowly. “But take me to dinner first.”

Bobbi grinned at him. She could work with that, considering they were already at dinner and all.

“So, you know Jemma too. How?” Fitz not-at-all-deftly changed the subject of the conversation.

“She lived next door to me. I helped her learn her way around the school when she first moved from England and we stayed friends after that. We lost touch when I moved here a couple years back.”

“Which is why she thinks you’re still engaged.”

Bobbi winced. “Yeah. Hunter and I broke up last year, but Jemma and I hadn’t spoken since the year before that, so…”

“I’m sorry.”

Bobbi brushed her foot against Fitz’s again. “It’s no big deal. Sometimes things don’t work out. I’m sure you have at least one ex, right?”

Fitz began twisting the paper wrapping of his straw around his finger. “I do. But I was never engaged.”

“Don’t do it. Marriage is a farce,” Bobbi said, leaning back. 

“A lot of people would disagree with you on that.”

“Want to debate the necessity of marriage on our first date?” Bobbi teased. Fitz’s flush had faded, but it flared up again at the words _first date_. He didn’t debate that they were on a date, though, which was a step in the right direction.

“I’m sure there are better ways for us to spend our time.”

“Like?”

“Tell me something about you I don’t know,” Fitz challenged. “You’re a model, you have an ex, and you’re friends with Jemma. That’s all I’ve got.”

“I’m an only child. Dad was a doctor, mom was a lawyer. I originally thought I wanted to be a dancer, but I was told I was too tall for that.”

“Common theme,” Fitz muttered.

Bobbi lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Apparently I’m intimidating.”

“I get that a lot, too.”

“Can’t see why, considering you’re always glaring at things.”

“I -” Fitz paused when he saw her smile. “That was a joke?”

“Yes,” Bobbi said, desperately wanting to add, _dummy_. She didn’t make a habit of insulting guys on the first date. “I think it’s cute that you like your camera so much.”

Fitz stuttered for a moment, trying to find an appropriate response. Bobbi just kept smiling at him. Sure, he was no Hunter, but the more time she spent with him the more obvious it was Leo Fitz was just _adorable_. And he still had all the physical assets going for him, too. He actually wouldn’t be a bad boyfriend, if things went that way.

He was saved from having to come up with something to say when their food appeared in front of them. Bobbi immediately dove into her burger, while Fitz began by dipping one of his fries into his milkshake.

“Good?” Bobbi asked around a mouthful of food.

She was nothing short of shocked when Fitz offered her a fry as an answer. She swallowed her bite of burger quickly so she could wrap her lips around the fry, giving Fitz a look as she did so. His pupils were huge when he looked back at her, and Bobbi couldn’t help but feel like she’d won. She pulled back, letting out a little moan while she chewed. Fitz shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper focused on his plate.

“You okay?” Bobbi asked, tracing her foot up the inside of Fitz’s leg. She kept waiting for him to tell her to stop, but he didn’t - not even when she pressed the ball of her foot to his crotch.

“Yeah,” Fitz answered, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Maybe we can get this to-go?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Bobbi flagged down their waitress and requested the boxes. Her foot had returned to the floor but Fitz was still glassy-eyed.

“You okay there, sport?” Bobbi asked.

“Yeah. Yes. Of course,” Fitz answered, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. “I just don’t normally do this sort of thing.”

“We don’t have to.”

“I _want_ to.”

The words sent a thrill up her spine. Grant had always asked for sex, but Bobbi got the impression that was more because he enjoyed sex generally and less because he enjoyed sex with _her_. Fitz was going to do something he didn’t normally do because _she_ was the person he was doing it with.

“Meet me outside?” Bobbi suggested.

“I’d better stay sitting a little longer,” Fitz answered, voice tense. Bobbi flashed him a smile, and he gave her a weak one in return.

Three minutes later she was pinned against the brick wall of the alley behind Coulson’s, Fitz’s lips against her neck and his leg between her thighs. Bobbi let out a breathy moan as she ground against him, and for the first time in a long time, Lance Hunter was the last thing on her mind.


	3. Chapter 3

The Port of Los Angeles wasn’t nearly as glamorous as her photographer had hoped, but Bobbi could’ve told him that from the beginning. Most photographers weren’t in the business of listening to models, though. Bobbi was just there to sit still, look pretty, and be the canvas onto which he threw his paints. He had wanted as blank a canvas as possible, too - she was wearing all white and the plainest makeup imaginable. Bobbi was beginning to regret booking the job, because anyone who thought glamor could be pulled from the port and a nude lip wasn’t worth it. She sighed. If Fitz were here, he’d probably have better ideas about what to do to make this shoot more than a total waste of time. 

Goosebumps rose along the back of her neck when she thought about Fitz, and Bobbi swallowed down the emotions threatening to choke her. She didn’t need to be thinking about him and how much more fun he could’ve made this shoot.

Speaking of people she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about… Bobbi blinked a few times, wrapping her arms around herself protectively. The man standing a few dozen feet away definitely wasn’t Hunter. He was wearing a uniform and talking to a man with a clipboard. Lance Hunter hated uniforms and abhorred authority. No one carried around a clipboard without having authority. 

The man turned, and Bobbi’s heart jumped into her throat. She would recognize that face anywhere, no matter how close or far away. No amount of time or distance could erase Hunter; those were heart memories, not head memories. The dimples on the corners of his mouth, the maple syrup softness of his eyes, the calluses on the palms of his hands, the rough scrape of his stubble on her skin - her heart still held onto them no matter how hard her head tried to let go. Though her head certainly wasn’t going to be letting go of the image of Hunter in a uniform anytime soon. 

“Morse!” the photographer snapped at her. “We’re going to move over there.” Bobbi didn’t argue. Even if he was an asshole she never planned on working with again, she wasn’t about to go giving herself the black dot by being a diva. The photographer continued lecturing her about the poor lighting and how difficult the shoot would be, and Bobbi was _completely_ certain she wasn’t the diva in this relationship. 

Dealing with assholes was Bobbi’s day-to-day life, so even while bending over backwards to meet the photographer's insane demands, her mind was turning over her second encounter with her ex in one week. She didn’t think Hunter had seen her, and Bobbi couldn’t decide how she felt. On one hand, not having another awkward interaction with him meant she didn’t have to give back his jacket (not that she _needed_ to keep the jacket), but on the other… she missed him, and if he saw her, there was a chance, however small, _he_ would be the one to reach out.

By the time the photographer had gotten over himself and the shoot had wrapped, Bobbi was dangerously close to being late to her coffee date with Jemma, which meant she had no time to go searching through the port to find Hunter again. It was for the better, she told herself as she ducked into her car. She didn’t need her life becoming more complicated than it already was.

\---

The air conditioning of the coffee shop was a welcome respite after the blistering heat of the port. Even with so much water nearby, the asphalt and concrete held onto the sun’s rays like a sponge and made the summer even more unbearably warm. Bobbi had an iced coffee on the table in front of her, but she was more focused on watching the door, waiting for Jemma’s appearance.

No one else seemed to notice how much brighter the shop became when Jemma breezed in. The sun must’ve been behind a cloud, Bobbi mused to herself as her friend smiled at her. It wasn’t a surprise Jemma Simmons could blow clouds away - she could do anything if she put her mind to it.

Jemma waved at Bobbi before getting into line. When she sat across from Bobbi, though, it wasn’t coffee, or even Jemma’s customary black tea in the cup in front of her.

“Why the hell are you getting green tea?” Bobbi asked in lieu of greeting.

“My agent thinks I need to kick my caffeine habit,” Jemma said, scrunching up her face.

“Agents are dumb.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. Sure, she had a lot to thank her agent for - like the fact she had a name in her industry, and the sterling reputation she was always striving to protect - but Bobbi wasn’t ever going to cut caffeine, or carbs, or whatever the hell the newest fad diet was. Bobbi had no problem admitting she was a _bit_ of a narcissist, but caring about the way she looked didn’t mean she had to kill herself for a body that would just be Photoshopped anyways.

“A lot of things are dumb,” Jemma agreed with a sigh.

“There’s a story behind that.” Bobbi gestured for Jemma to continue talking.

“Feelings,” Jemma said, pulling the same face as she had when she mentioned cutting caffeine. “Just… feelings.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Bobbi said, lifting her cup and tilting it towards Jemma.

“You first.”

“Hunter and I broke up last year.” The lid of her coffee cup was suddenly very interesting. “But I… I don’t know. I don’t love him, but I’m also always going to love him, you know?”

“I don’t,” Jemma answered bluntly. “I really thought you two were going to make it.”

“Yeah, we thought so too,” Bobbi whispered. She swallowed hard, fighting against the itching in her eyes. No way was she going to cry in public. “But things happen, and sometimes those things mean we can’t have what we want.” God, that was the understatement of the year - or maybe the decade. 

“I’m sorry,” Jemma said, laying her hand on Bobbi’s. “I’m here if you want to talk about it… though I guess it’s been a while.”

“Not sure time helps in this case,” Bobbi admitted. Seeing Hunter earlier had been more of a sucker punch than she had expected, just like seeing him at the party had been. Time hadn’t done much to fade her feelings - she had just forgotten them until she saw her ex again. “But enough about me. What about you?”

Jemma gave a look, clearly saying that was _not_ enough about Bobbi, but answered her question. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever considered a relationship with someone who you think likes you back, but decided it was a bad idea anyways?”

Bobbi caught her lip between her teeth, worrying it back and forth. “Kind of, I guess.”

“Fitz and I…” Jemma sighed, and didn’t say any more.

_Fitz’s hands, hot against her bare skin. His mouth tracing down her neck, between her breasts, lower, lower…_

“Fitz and you…?” Bobbi prompted, ignoring the insistent prodding of the memory and releasing her lip.

“I don’t know. I like him, but I wonder if we’re too similar. I suppose… we both overthink things, sometimes.”

_“Do you want me to stop?”_

_“Huh?” Bobbi’s eyes snapped open._

_“You’re all tense.”_

_“I - it’s fine,” she stuttered out._

_“You don’t seem fine.” His blue eyes were concerned, not accusing, and somehow that made it worse._

“Or rather, we overthink sometimes and don’t think enough others,” Jemma continued. “I mean, he got a degree in engineering before deciding he was going to be a photographer. He’s smart, and you know sometimes I can be a know it all, but I worry we’d be too cerebral and then too hyper emotional, and then too cerebral again.”

_“I’m not mad at you,” Fitz whispered as they pulled their clothes back on. “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”_

_“I’m mad at me,” Bobbi murmured. It wasn’t like her to freak out, or to say no to sex. Nothing about this was like her._

_“I enjoyed our date,” Fitz said. He hesitated before reaching for her hand, and Bobbi let his fingers twist through hers. She liked those hands, even if she hadn’t managed to shake the wrongness of them touching her in other places. “If you want to try again sometime.”_

_“I… I don’t know.”_

“I don’t know,” Bobbi said. “I think you two could make it work if you wanted to.”

“But isn’t that a lot of effort for something that might not pan out, in the long-term?” Jemma asked.

“Relationships are always a lot of effort,” Bobbi said, her laugh scraping unpleasantly at her throat. Maybe that was where she and Hunter had failed - not putting in enough work. They had held on well enough, but then when Bobbi’s career had skyrocketed, they’d slowly fallen apart.

“It’s just… complicated, I suppose.” Jemma took a sip of her drink, staring at a point just above Bobbi’s head.

_“Nice to see you didn’t stand me up,” Fitz said when Bobbi ducked into the Starbucks and found him at a table, tea already in front of him,_

_“Couldn’t leave you hanging twice.” Bobbi’s joke fell flat._

_“Don’t,” Fitz warned. “I told you. We won’t ever do anything you don’t want to do.”_

_Men shouldn’t be allowed to be as good as Leo Fitz._

_“What if I want to kiss you now?” She should’ve batted her eyelids, to make it more flirtatious and less horrifyingly vulnerable, but Bobbi couldn’t manage it._

“How would you feel if Fitz was with someone else?” Bobbi asked, trying to exude nonchalance she didn’t feel.

Jemma shrugged. “If she made him happy, I suppose good on him for finding someone.”

“But?” Bobbi prompted, sensing unsaid words.

“But I would still be a bit disappointed we never got to try,” Jemma finished. 

“So you don’t want to put in the effort, but you still want to try?” Bobbi asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

_“We can just be casual, if you want,” Fitz offered._

_“I don’t know what I want,” Bobbi admitted, squeezing their joined hands. “I like… I like this. Having someone to talk to.” It had been a long time since she had someone like that._

_“And snog.” Fitz smiled again, the smile Bobbi still wasn’t sure what to do with._

_“I don’t use the word snog.” Never mind how much it reminded her of Hunter - snog didn’t sound right, didn’t fit anything she did with Fitz. She kissed him, and that was all._

“I just want you to be happy, Jemma.” The words were surprisingly bitter in her mouth, and Bobbi washed away the bitterness with a swig of her coffee. The vanilla cream tasted sour.

Jemma gave her a wry smile. “I’m not sure I understand what it means to be happy here.”

Bobbi sighed. When she had come to L.A., she was sure she was one of the people who wasn’t going to change. But then her relationship had crumbled and everything that had once made her happy didn’t spark joy anymore. Except for modelling, of course. She was good at it and everyone recognized how good she was. 

Fitz didn’t care how good of a model she was, though. Bobbi couldn’t figure out why he did like her, if not for her looks or her career. Their relationship could be a symbiotic one, if he wanted it to be - her modelling for his photos, both of them getting exposure at the same time. But Fitz didn’t want a professional relationship. He came home with her and when it didn’t work out he offered for it to be casual instead, and she just _didn’t get it_. 

If it had been anyone else making her feel this way, Bobbi would’ve asked Jemma her thoughts, but it would be in poor form to admit to sleeping with and maybe kind of dating the man Jemma had just talked about liking romantically.

She and Fitz really needed to define their relationship. And then Bobbi could… what? Go running back to her ex and flaunt her new man? Beg for forgiveness from one of her oldest friends for stealing the person she liked from under her nose?

“Earth to Bobbi,” Jemma said, waving her hand.

“You really shouldn’t talk about happiness here. In this city, I mean.”

“Why not?”

“Do you really think fame makes anyone happy?” Bobbi asked, propping her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand. “I mean, you’re doing a movie with famous people, aren’t you?”

“I’m having coffee with a famous person,” Jemma responded levelly. 

“I’m not -”

“I passed a tabloid with your face on it this morning,” Jemma blurted. 

Bobbi blinked. She knew some people paid attention to her (mostly people who masturbated to her pictures, she was pretty sure), but she didn’t think she was a big enough deal to have a tabloid presence. It was probably a trash tabloid, Bobbi thought, something hard and heavy lodging itself behind her sternum. She couldn’t…

Why was this so upsetting? It wasn’t like she hadn’t been scratching and clawing to get her way up the ladder, to make herself more than just another pretty face.

“I hope they chose a good picture,” Bobbi said, forcing the words out.

“No such thing as a bad picture of you,” Jemma answered, brushing Bobbi’s concern aside. “It was just… weird.”

“You’re avoiding the question,” Bobbi said after a long pause.

“Funny, I thought _you_ were the one avoiding the question.” Jemma met Bobbi’s eyes, and there was so much challenge there Bobbi almost wanted to laugh. Time hadn’t done anything to change the stubborn little eight-year-old who was mad about Bobbi being able to reach the top shelf of the bookshelf without help. 

“I asked first.” Bobbi flashed a smile.

“I think anything can make someone happy for a little while. I don’t know if fame can keep someone happy forever, but you could argue _nothing_ will make someone happy forever.”

“I think you’re wrong about the last bit,” Bobbi said. “I think some things are permanent.”

“What?” Jemma challenged.

“Love, if you get it right.” Annoyingly, Hunter’s face flashed across her mind again. “Friendship. All the ooey gooey stuff.”

“Our friendship wasn’t permanent.”

“It could’ve been, if I was a better person.”

“Bobbi!”

“I’m just saying, we both know who wasn’t answering the calls,” Bobbi said with a sigh. In reflecting on how to tell Jemma she had broken up with Hunter, Bobbi had stumbled upon the unpleasant truth that she probably could’ve stayed friends with Jemma through it all if she had cared to, instead of trying to erase her old life and rewrite it into something more glamorous.

“I don’t blame you for that,” Jemma said firmly. “I could’ve done more, too. And sometimes these things just happen.”

“But I’m just saying, our friendship didn’t last not because drifting apart is inherent to friendship, but because sometimes people - me - make mistakes.”

“Is that why you broke up with Hunter?” Jemma clapped her hand over her mouth almost comically quickly. Pain seared through Bobbi, an unpleasant heat that spread from the base of her neck to the tips of her fingers by way of the center of her chest. _You broke up with Hunter_. If only Jemma knew how wrong she was.

“I didn’t cheat on him, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said stiffly.

“I didn’t mean - I just -”

“We broke up because it wasn’t working. He was busy, I was busy. That’s all.” Once again she had to remind herself she was _not_ going to cry in a coffee shop. Not about Lance Hunter. _Especially_ not if she was now somehow interesting enough to warrant paparazzi taking pictures of her in public.

“But did losing him make you less happy?” Jemma asked gently.

“Jesus, are you my therapist?”

“You’re the one who talked about relationships being the only source of permanent happiness.”

“Yes, and you’re much too logical for that,” Bobbi sighed.

“Anyone who claims logic makes them above emotions is lying to themselves,” Jemma answered. “I know that wasn’t always my forte when we were younger, but…”

“Fame really has changed you,” Bobbi teased.

“It isn’t fame,” Jemma said softly. “It was you.”

Bobbi could only gape at those words.

“You know you were my first real friend,” Jemma said steadily. “And when you left and we stopped talking, I realized just how much I needed you.” Jemma took a balled up napkin and blotted at her eyes. Bobbi’s chest tightened despite the rock behind her breastbone. She had been so busy trying not to cry over Hunter she hadn’t realized how emotional Jemma was, too.

“Jemma…”

“It’s fine.” Jemma sniffled one last time and set the napkin back down on the table. “I really missed you, Bobbi.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“We can’t change the past,” Jemma said, straightening slightly. “But we can change the future. We’re getting coffee again next week.” It wasn’t an invitation - it was a command.

“I like bossy Jemma.” Bobbi grinned.

“You and no one else.”

“I don’t know, I think you could get Fitz naked with that voice.” If only Jemma knew how hard Bobbi had to work to eke that joke out and make it sound normal.

“Barbara! We’re in public!”

“No one else is listening,” Bobbi said, waving Jemma off. “Besides, even if they were, it’s just going to go in the same gossip rag as everything else.” Most of the time there was no way to tell what was real and what was fake when it came to the gossip scene.

“I don’t want to end up in tabloids like _someone_.”

“I didn’t even know I was in it until you told me!” Bobbi defended. She really needed to get a copy of whatever magazine it was, though. Maybe TMZ posted a knock-off of it online she could check out.

“Really, though. I want to see you again,” Jemma said. “Before my shooting schedule gets crazier than it already is.”

“Anything you want.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I don’t.” Bobbi scooted her chair back from the table, sensing the coffee date was drawing to a close. 

“Good.” Jemma caught her eyes again, and Bobbi looked away before her friend could stare into her soul. There was still so much Bobbi felt like she was hiding, but their first reunion wasn’t the time to come clean about everything she was feeling about Hunter… and Fitz. They had time, Bobbi told herself as she pushed her chair back in and gathered her half-full coffee. They had time and eventually she would tell Jemma the whole truth - when she was ready.

They parted ways, and Bobbi wasn’t sure whether she felt heavier or lighter. The knowledge of being in a tabloid still was sitting inside her like lead, and the pain of Jemma asking about Hunter hadn’t quite faded. And of course there was the business of Fitz, and Jemma, and Fitz-and-Jemma…

Bobbi sighed and scrubbed her hand over her face. She was glad for Jemma to be back, she _really_ was, but hadn’t she just been thinking about how she didn’t need a more complicated life?


	4. Chapter 4

There were a thousand other places Bobbi should have been. She had no reason to go back to the port. 

No good reason, at least.

Bobbi blew out a slow breath. The port was public and she didn’t _need_ a reason to be there. Only one person was going to give a damn about her intentions, and she was hoping he would be too distracted by her presence to consider why she was there in the first place.

Finding Hunter wasn’t difficult. He wasn’t the kind of man who stuck out in a crowd - plain brunette hair, plain hazel eyes, average height - but she knew him like the back of her hand, and she could find him anywhere. A part of her would always feel like she belonged wherever he was, so of course she would be able to find him.

After spotting him, though, Bobbi didn’t approach her ex-fiancé. She lingered a dozen or so feet away, watching him watch the crowd with a familiar intensity in his gaze. Something scratched at Bobbi’s throat when she remembered what it was like to be on the receiving end of that stare under entirely different circumstances, and she muffled a cough into her elbow. Why couldn’t she just look at Hunter in peace, without those pesky memories?

She couldn’t even say why she wanted to be there. Yes, she wanted to see Hunter, but beyond that, Bobbi couldn’t puzzle anything out. It wasn’t like seeing Hunter would change anything. He wouldn’t see her and magically decide breaking up was a bad idea. And even if he did, her feelings were already tangled enough without adding an ex-ex to the mix.

But she was still there, and no matter how hard she tried to talk herself into leaving, Bobbi remained rooted to the spot.

She shouldn’t have been surprised when Hunter made his way to her. He was security and she was a suspicious figure lurking in the shadows without moving for several minutes. Judging by his gait, he recognized her though. His hands were still shoved in the pocket of his uniform, his shoulders tilted forward a fraction. When Hunter was trying to intimidate someone he always pulled his shoulders back and puffed up his chest. He thought it made him look more intimidating, but Bobbi had always thought it made him look silly.

“Were you ever going to come say hi?” Hunter asked, voice light as he leaned against the wall next to her.

“You looked busy.”

Hunter’s eyebrow ticked up. “Yes, I was so busy staring at these people.”

“You’re at work. I didn’t want to interfere.” Bobbi was avoiding looking Hunter in the eyes, but he was making it difficult with the way he kept trying to catch hers.

“I can take lunch whenever I want.” If anyone else had said those words to her in that tone, Bobbi would’ve suspected they were flirting. But it was just Hunter, and he couldn’t actually be serious about wanting to have lunch with her.

“Do you want to get lunch then?” she asked, trying to keep her voice even. He would say no, and -

“Sure.” Hunter grinned. “I’ll just let my supervisor know I’m going.”

Bobbi watched, stunned, as Hunter traipsed away. He still knew how to throw her off-balance, which was just as infuriating now as it had been when they were dating. Bobbi couldn’t seem to find her equilibrium lately, between Fitz and Jemma and Hunter. She didn’t have much time to consider her predicament before Hunter was coming back towards her.

“Know any good places nearby?”

“You’re the one who works here,” Bobbi answered. She couldn’t remember ever coming to the port except for the photoshoot earlier that week. Hunter surely knew the local haunts better than she did.

“Ah, but I think you might be angry if I suggest what I’m thinking.” He gestured with his head towards the exit to the street, and Bobbi was glad for her comfortable shoes - it seemed like they were going to be walking to whatever destination Hunter was setting out for.

“Why would I be angry?”

“Because it’s the most stereotypically British meal of all time.”

“Not fish and chips.”

Hunter’s smile was enough of an answer. Bobbi rolled her eyes, but caught herself before she bumped her shoulder against his. It was too easy for her body to forget they were broken up and to fall back into old habits, even if their relationship status was constantly at the front of her mind.

“So, why did you come to see me?” Hunter asked as they walked.

“Who said I came to see you?”

“I did, of course.” 

Bobbi hated the swoop in the stomach, the ease of their bickering, the way the conversation felt _right_. She hated it, because Hunter was never going to be hers again and she was just clawing at wounds that needed to close.

“I’ve just been thinking,” Bobbi started carefully, “that I regret the way things ended between us. And I appreciate what you did for me at the party and…” _And I miss you_ , she wanted to say. But _I miss you_ and _I love you_ were too close together. Just one slip of the tongue and she’d baring her heart for him, which would be a bad idea.

“I wish things had ended differently, too, Bob.” Hunter sighed, and Bobbi liked to imagine there was a hint of sadness to it. “You know, if there had been any other way…”

“Can we not talk about it?” she interrupted. She didn’t want to think about the breakup any more than she had to, and this was quickly going down a dangerous path.

“Yeah.”

They walked in silence a little more, and Bobbi was about to ask Hunter when they were going to arrive when he spoke again. “I saw Jemma was in town. What’s that about?”

“She’s an actress now, I guess.” Sometimes Bobbi forgot Hunter and Jemma had known each other, at least casually. Hunter was so deeply rooted in Los Angeles, and Jemma was equally fixed in Ohio, so Bobbi associated them with different parts of her life.

“Wild,” Hunter commented. “And that bloke she was with?”

He really did notice everything, didn’t he? “Photographer. He worked on one of my shoots.”

“Yeah?”

“He seems nice.” Bobbi shrugged. Telling Hunter about Fitz seemed just as bad of an idea as telling Jemma about Fitz, if not worse. There were too many wrong ideas he could get… though what those wrong ideas were, Bobbi couldn’t be certain. A year after their split was more than enough time to start seeing someone casually again. 

“They together?”

“Oh, that’s a minefield you don’t want to step in,” Bobbi said with a laugh. “She’s into him and I’m pretty sure he’s into her, but she’s convinced a relationship will never work out and he’s too shy to even admit he likes her.”

Hunter made a face Bobbi couldn’t quite read. “It’s just like you to get caught up in drama.” He winced. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. Just - things seem to follow you.”

“Not sure how you could mean that in a good way,” Bobbi answered, dry tone masking the tendril of hurt wrapping around her heart. Hunter had called her some nasty things as their relationship fell apart, and she had returned the favor, but melodramatic had never been on the list.

Hunter stopped in his tracks. “I mean you have… a way about you. People trust you.”

Okay, so maybe he hadn’t actually meant it as an insult.

 _You didn’t trust me_ , she wanted to say. _Or you wouldn’t have left._

“I have one of those faces,” she said instead, brushing off the compliment borne of an insult. Pretty people were easier to trust, Bobbi had always been told. Apparently it was truer than she once thought.

Hunter didn’t answer, pulling her instead into a little store that could barely fit the three mismatched tables it held. He ordered them both fish and chips before squeezing into one of the tables, which barely left room in the aisle for other people to slide past. The place wasn’t busy, though, so Bobbi didn’t anticipate any issues.

“So, I’ve told you about my life,” Bobbi said as she tucked into the food. “Your turn.”

“Not much to say.” Hunter spoke with his mouth full, and Bobbi wished she could hate him more for it. “Working in security. Go to some footie games when I have the time. Call my mom when she asks me to.” He lifted his shoulder in a half-shrug, and Bobbi took another large bite of fish to keep herself from asking a million inappropriate probing questions. Did he have a girlfriend? Had he made any new friends? How were his mom and stepmom?

“Sounds nice,” she managed after swallowing her food.

“It’s life.” Hunter reached for a napkin and wiped his greasy fingers on it. “I’m thinking of finding a different career. Something more challenging than the port.”

“More challenging,” Bobbi repeated dubiously.

“In case you didn’t notice, all I really do is sit around and make sure no one looks too shifty.”

Bobbi had noticed Hunter wasn’t doing much other than talking to men with clipboards and supervising the crowd, but she wasn’t in security, so there was no way to know if that was a typical gig.

“So what’s more interesting?”

“I’m hoping to get into the private sector. Rich people who need bodyguards.” Bobbi was still avoiding looking at him, but suddenly Hunter was trying to avoid looking at her, too. Did she think she’d be offended by her comment about rich people? She was successful, but Bobbi didn’t think she’d call herself _rich_. Then again, being able to afford rent in Los Angeles probably made her richer than most of the world.

“And that’s more challenging why?”

“Ego,” Hunter answered promptly. 

Ah. “You have plenty of practice with that one.”

Hunter froze, his hand halfway between his plate and mouth. “Do you want me to agree with that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

Hunter dropped his fork, and it landed with a clatter. “Because you hated it when I told you you couldn’t see anything past your ego, maybe?” So he hadn’t forgotten those fights.

“If it’s true, it’s true regardless of how I feel about it,” Bobbi said steadily. She kept waiting for him to deny it, to apologize for all the times he called her an egomaniac or made a scathing comment about how self-absorbed she was, but it didn’t come.

“I really don’t understand you, Bob.” Hunter rubbed his hand over his face. “I should be getting back to work,” he said after a pause. “I’ll see you, yeah?”

She didn’t answer, just watched as he slid his chair back, threw out his trash, and exited the shop. She let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Bobbi didn’t know why she was so desperate for an apology she didn’t deserve. Maybe she just wanted proof he had ever loved her. Maybe it was something else entirely. Bobbi didn’t like to introspect too much or too often - it was dark inside her, and she had always been more afraid of the dark than she cared to admit.

She sat alone in the chip shop for another five minutes, finishing the last of her food before sliding her phone out of her pocket and sending a text.

 _Can I come over_?

\---

Bobbi spat her gum out in the trash can in the stairwell of Fitz’s apartment before knocking on his door. Fitz answered immediately, and Bobbi gave him a once-over. He obviously hadn’t changed since she texted him - he was wearing ratty jeans and an even rattier T-shirt, and he didn’t seem to care he was underdressed.

“I thought you’d be busy today,” he said as he stepped back, inviting her into his apartment. Bobbi looked around curiously, trying to snatch up as much of Fitz as she could while he still let her be this close. Eventually he would figure things out and push her away, just like everyone else did, but for now she could have this little piece of him.

“Don’t have anything scheduled until next week,” she answered as she stepped further into Fitz’s space.

Unsurprisingly, there were photos everywhere. One wall in particular caught Bobbi’s attention. Framed photos took up almost the entire wall, except for near the ceiling where Bobbi assumed Fitz couldn’t reach. She smiled to herself as she surveyed the pictures. Green hills, blue-grey ocean, foreboding castles, craggy seaside cliffs…

“These are Scotland?” she asked. 

“Yeah,” Fitz answered, coming to stand beside her in front of the wall. “Thought I’d be doing landscape photography. Didn’t work out.”

“And now you get to be around half-naked women all day instead,” Bobbi teased.

“Not as interesting,” Fitz dismissed. 

“You don’t find me interesting?” Bobbi asked, affecting a pout.

“I said I don’t find random half-nude women interesting,” Fitz corrected. “There’s a difference.”

So, Fitz didn’t find random women interesting, but for some reason had still agreed to let her come over. The flush on her cheeks surprised even Bobbi, and she struggled to find something to say in response. “Scotland’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Fitz agreed. Bobbi waited for the blush to fade before moving on to look at the other photos hung in the apartment. If Hunter had been there, he would have made a comment about how she was the beautiful one, but she was glad for the space Fitz gave her. 

“Why did you want to come over?” Fitz asked as Bobbi inspected a photo of what Bobbi assumed was his family. There was a tall, intimidating-looking man looming over a baby-faced Fitz, a woman with kind eyes and Fitz’s curly hair standing next to them with a smile plastered to her face.

“Just felt like seeing you, I guess,” Bobbi lied. “Not having anything to do is boring.”

“I thought you’d enjoy the vacation after last week,” Fitz said. He shifted his weight nervously, and Bobbi peered down at him. Did he not want her there? Was her continued study of the photo unnerving him? Had he seen through her lie?

“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t in a career where I’m crazy busy for a week and then free for a week.” Bobbi pushed a hand through her hair, moving on from Fitz’s family photo in hopes of making him feel better. “I mean, I could be busier if I wanted to, but…”

“Rest is important,” Fitz said softly. 

“Next you’re going to be telling me I look tired.”

Fitz sputtered in response, and Bobbi finished her circuit of the room. None of the other photos were as interesting as the gallery wall or the picture of younger Fitz, even if they all were beautiful. Bobbi suspected aside from the family photo, Fitz had taken all of the other photos himself, but she didn’t want to ask and be wrong.

“I know you’d never say that. You’re too gentlemanly,” Bobbi said with a roll of her eyes, collapsing on Fitz’s couch.

“Gentlemanly.”

“Yeah, gentlemanly,” she repeated. She held Fitz’s gaze for a moment. She didn’t want to mention their disastrous almost-night together, at least not aloud, but she needed him to know she appreciated what he had done - or rather, what he hadn’t done.

“So what are you doing?” Bobbi asked when the silence became unnerving. Fitz’s laptop was still sitting on the coffee table, but she hadn’t looked at the screen out of respect for his privacy.

“Color correction on some photos. From the project you were a part of, actually,” Fitz said, settling in beside her. Bobbi hesitated before moving closer, and Fitz didn’t tense or flinch away when she leaned against him. 

“You know, no one ever tells us what happens to the photos after they’re taken,” Bobbi said as Fitz pulled his laptop onto his lap. “It’s just poof, magically you look a lot hotter.”

“It’s not making you look hotter,” Fitz protested. “Just making sure your face isn’t too shadowed or anything.”

“They don’t make you smooth out wrinkles?” Bobbi asked dubiously.

“That’s not the photographer’s job,” Fitz answered. “We color correct but leave the bigger adjustments to whatever magazine it is so they can give it to their salaried workers. They don’t trust freelancers much.”

“That’s dumb.” Bobbi answered, watching with interest as Fitz pulled up a picture of a model she didn’t recognize and began messing with the various settings. He moved on to a different picture when he was satisfied with the first, and Bobbi couldn't help but be a little awed at how easy he made it all seem. She would be lost in the mires of Photoshop if she tried to do even half the stuff Fitz was doing - and according to him, this wasn’t even the hard bit.

“This one’s you,” Fitz warned before he pulled up the next photo. Bobbi fought against her instinctive urge to look away. Hunter could say all he wanted about her being a narcissist, but there was something deeply unsettling to Bobbi about looking at her own pictures.

“Do you want me to stop?” Fitz asked. “I realize I’m probably not being a good host, working while you’re here.”

“I’m not a good guest, since I sprang hanging out on you in the middle of the work day.” Bobbi hadn’t considered how little of a right she had to make that demand of Fitz. He wasn’t her boyfriend - she wasn’t even sure if most people would qualify them as _friends_ \- but he still accepted her into his space without question.

“I don’t mind,” Fitz said immediately. “I like you.”

Bobbi snorted. “Really?” It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him, considering she was sitting pressed against him on the couch in his home, but… it never hurt to confirm someone’s feelings, especially when hers were still so twisted. She loved Hunter, but she liked Fitz, and Bobbi suspected he was working through a similar issue with loving Jemma but liking her. And then there was the whole matter of their first meeting not going well, and their second meeting hardly going much better, and -

Fitz turned his head to kiss her, and Bobbi let out a surprised squeak. Fitz pulled away, brows furrowed, but Bobbi followed his mouth with hers. “I’m good, we’re good,” she murmured, shivering as the coolness of Fitz’s breath fanned across her lips. “I was just surprised.”

Fitz allowed her explanation, and when Bobbi leaned forward to kiss him again, he didn’t withdraw. Bobbi was grateful for her foresight in chewing the gum on her drive over to Fitz’s, and equally thankful Fitz seemed to have done something similar. His mouth tasted like mint and he was frustratingly good at kissing. Bobbi hadn’t had time to notice it the last time she kissed him, since she was distracted by other things and other people, but here and now she noticed everything.

“Hold on,” Fitz muttered, lips still pressed against hers. He lifted his laptop back onto the coffee table, leaving his lap free for Bobbi to swing into. She cradled his face between her hands, stroking her thumbs along the line of his cheekbones.

“No sex,” she whispered, pressing their foreheads together.

“No sex,” he agreed. “But we can do this.”

“We can.” Bobbi swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I’m so complicated.” Fitz deserved someone with less baggage than her. Fitz deserved someone who wasn’t still in love with their ex.

“I’m complicated too, you know.” His eyes fluttered shut and Bobbi didn’t resist her impulse to brush two soft, quick kisses against the backs of his eyelids. “But we can be complicated together.”

Fitz opened his eyes again, and Bobbi swore she’d never seen anything quite so blue before. “I’d like that,” she said.

“Me too.”

Fitz’s mouth covered hers again, and Bobbi’s hands slid down to cup at the back of his neck. She didn’t know what was happening here, or why she enjoyed kissing Fitz so much when her heart still firmly belonged to someone else, but she did know she liked what was happening - and that was more than she could say about anything else in her life right now.


	5. Chapter 5

_Did you read TMZ this morning?_

Bobbi couldn’t think of a more heart-stopping text to wake up to. She rolled over and dashed out a quick answer to Piper - _No, why?_ \- before immediately opening up TMZ’s homepage. There was the normal drivel about who was breaking up with whom and who had a wardrobe disaster in public, but Bobbi finally scrolled far enough to see what Piper had been referring to.

_Who Does She Love: Bobbi Morse Cheating?_

The article was accompanied by two pictures - one of her and Hunter in the fish and chip shop two weeks previous, and one of her and Fitz on the street together just the day before. Fitz had promised to show her all the best spots in the city to take good photos, and while they weren’t holding hands in the picture, Bobbi was standing closer to him than she ever allowed herself to stand to someone who was a friend. Bobbi hadn’t known either of the photos had been taken, which was a problem in itself. Was someone following her, or had TMZ just gotten lucky and received two photos of her and decided to spin a story out of it?

Bobbi flicked through the article, her lips thinning into a line. It was all about how she and Hunter had split and how her being seen with him again meant she was up to no good. And, of course, the writer couldn’t decide whether or not she was romantically interested in Fitz - and if she was interested in him, whether she was cheating on Fitz with Hunter or Hunter with Fitz. The article went on to question her sexual purity and make more than one nasty comment about how the author thought she wasn’t like other girls and now was disappointed by her sluttish behavior.

In short: it was a load of horse shit.

But it was a load of horse shit she needed to get ahead of. Ugh. It was too early in the morning to be dealing with this. Fitz didn’t seem like the kind of person who paid attention to tabloids, but she didn’t want him thinking she was cheating on him. Did it count as cheating if they weren’t even together? She didn’t know.

When she called him she got voicemail immediately, which meant he had turned his phone off for the night and hadn’t woken up yet. Bobbi left a short voicemail telling him to call her back, and then went about her morning routine - showering, changing, and making breakfast. She had a night photoshoot later, but she didn’t need to leave for that until well after dinner, which meant all she could do was wait for Fitz to wake up.

Her phone rang just as Bobbi was finishing washing her breakfast dishes, and she answered it before checking the caller ID.

It wasn’t Fitz.

“Something you want to tell me, Bob?”

“Good morning, Hunter,” she answered stiffly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The tone in which you’re saying that implies you _do_ know what I’m talking about and just don’t want to tell me about it.”

“Why do you care?”

“Why do I care my _fiancée -_ ”

“Ex-fiancée,” she bit out. She hadn’t spent the last month trying to get him out of her head to have him go talking like he still cared.

“Doesn’t matter,” Hunter said heatedly. “You told me Fitz was into Jemma and now you’re chasing him? That’s not like you, Bob.”

“I’m not chasing him!” Bobbi protested. “We went on one date. We hang out sometimes because we both need friends. Not that you’d know anything about those.” Bobbi wasn’t thrilled she was winning this argument on technicalities - because really, she hadn’t been on a date with Fitz since the first one, and their relationship had never budged past friends who more-than-occasionally made out - but it was better than losing to Hunter.

“I know plenty about friends,” Hunter snapped. “I just know better than to go looking for drama!”

“I thought you said drama followed me? Now I go looking for it? What’s the truth, Hunter?”

“Jesus _Christ_ woman, can we have one conversation without you twisting my words?”

“Can we have one conversation without you getting on my ass about something I can’t control? Even if I was interested in Fitz and Jemma was too, I’m not some - some _she-devil_ for spending time with him! He’s a grown adult, and acts like one, unlike someone I know!”

Hunter made a garbled noise of frustration. “I just don’t want you getting hurt!”

“Once again we’re back to my original question - why the fuck do you care?!”

“Why do I -? You are so _stupid_! I -”

Bobbi hung up the phone before she could hear the rest of his sentence. She wasn’t going to sit around and listen to Hunter insult her because of a tabloid. He didn’t have all the facts, though Bobbi wasn’t sure having more facts would help in this case. Reality was much more confusing than anything a tabloid could cover in their 500-word clickbait.

While she had been arguing with Hunter on the phone, Bobbi had received a text from Fitz. He had gotten her call but wasn’t able to call her back - he was working until dinnertime, and that was why his phone had been off. Bobbi asked him if he could meet her at the shoot she had later, and Fitz immediately agreed. Hopefully nothing too disastrous would happen between now and then, though with her luck Bobbi couldn’t count on it.

Bobbi also sent a cursory thank-you to Piper and an email to her agent while she was already on her phone. She was sure the latter had already heard and was working on smoothing any ruffled feathers on the industry side of things, but Piper’s heads-up had helped Bobbi deal with the personal issues more effectively. At least that was the hope.

\---

Bobbi wasn’t used to having trailers for shoots, but apparently whoever was organizing this shindig wanted to make a point of how much money they had. A trailer for exactly one night was dumb, Bobbi thought, but it certainly was convenient. Fitz had let her know when he was getting off work and Bobbi had in turn given him the details he needed to find her on the shoot.

A cautious knock on the door alerted her to Fitz’s arrival, and Bobbi let him into the trailer. She was supposed to be sharing with Piper, but she wasn’t here yet - and even if she was, Bobbi was sure Piper wouldn’t mind giving Bobbi some space.

“Is this about TMZ?” Fitz asked. Bobbi wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or upset Fitz already knew why she had called. It saved her the hassle of trying to explain everything, but it also meant Fitz had had time to come up with some misconceptions.

“It is.” Bobbi kept her tone light and her words careful. She couldn’t read Fitz’s body language, which was unnerving. She was good at understanding people, when she wanted to. Most of the time it wasn’t worth the effort, but with Fitz, it was. She wanted to know what he was thinking, because beneath the shy, awkward exterior there was a brilliant brain and an even more brilliant heart. She wanted that. She wanted to _keep_ that.

“Are you still with him?”

“No,” Bobbi answered steadily. “Like I told you, we broke up.”

“And if he asked you to get back together, what would you say?” Those baby blue eyes Bobbi found so fascinating were now like searchlights, trying to find her every flaw. Bobbi didn’t like this side of Fitz - the suspicious side. 

“He would never do that.” Even from his call earlier that morning Hunter had made it clear he didn’t give a damn about her except when he was dragged into her mess. That had to be why he cared - because his name was somehow sullied by being associated with a slut. His questions about Fitz and Jemma and drama were just cover for his real intentions.

“But if he did,” Fitz pushed. “If he asked you if you wanted to try again, what would you say?”

Thinking about trying again with Hunter made Bobbi’s heart flip unexpectedly. If there was anything the past month had shown her, it was that she was not nearly as over Hunter as she thought. At least she hadn’t taken his hoodie out of her closet to wear or something equally damning. If he asked… she didn’t want to think about what she’d say. He _wasn’t_ going to ask, and her hypothetical answer could ruin the relationship she was building with Fitz - the very real, not hypothetical relationship.

“I would tell him no,” Bobbi said eventually.

“You’re lying to me.” There was nothing behind Fitz’s voice - not even an accusation. He stated his words like they were fact, like there was no way she could be telling the truth, and that was even worse than him making her think about Hunter as much as she had.

“I’m not.” Bobbi didn’t want to seem desperate, because the more desperate she was for him to believe her, the faker her original declaration seemed. People who were innocent didn’t care if others saw them that way - it was the guilty who cared more about their perception.

“What did you mean when you apologized for being complicated, then?”

“Everyone in Los Angeles is complicated! You said you were, too.”

“And I meant I still don’t know how I feel about Jemma,” Fitz admitted, looking at his feet. “I… I thought I was going to be able to get over my crush on her, but now I’m not so sure.”

 _Jemma_. The only one involved in this mess who didn’t know she was involved. Bobbi half wanted to call her friend and come clean, beg for advice, and figure things out, but she knew it was too late now. There was too much to explain.

“So what you’re saying is it’s okay if you moon over Jemma but I’m not allowed to be conflicted over the man I almost married?”

“Me and Jemma aren’t ending up in the tabloids!”

“It’s not my fault me and Hunter are, either!” Bobbi snapped back. “I didn’t ask to be followed around by paparazzi, Fitz!”

“I know you didn’t,” Fitz relented. “Because I like to believe you would’ve told me if you knew they’d gotten a picture of us together.”

“I would’ve,” Bobbi said. She stepped hesitantly towards Fitz. “I really care about you, Leo.” His given name felt weird in her mouth, but she didn’t know how else to express everything she was feeling. She just wanted to be close to him. Not necessarily physically, because sex was still the last thing she was thinking about most of the time she was with Fitz. She felt warm when she was with him, but not the kind of warm she felt when she was around Hunter. Fitz wasn’t an all-consuming flame; he was a steady hearth fire, there to see her through the winter.

“I know you do.” Fitz’s throat bobbed in a swallow. “But caring doesn’t make this any easier.”

It wasn’t what Bobbi wanted to hear.

“What about you?” she asked, hoping to fill up the silence. “If Jemma asked, would we be over?”

“I don’t even know what we are,” Fitz answered. “So I don’t know how we can be over.”

It was a fair point. “You wouldn’t kiss me anymore.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“You wouldn’t hold my hand.”

“I wouldn’t,” Fitz repeated. He had the decency to look ashamed about it.

“You wouldn’t ask me to hang out just because you were bored.”

“I - I don’t know.”

“You would ask Jemma first.” Bobbi was beginning to see how Fitz could’ve spoken about her feelings for Hunter so factually. It was easier for her to see the truth, see how much more he cared for Jemma than for her, once she started looking for it. Bobbi hadn’t ever seen Fitz look at Jemma, but she had seen Fitz look at her, and there was always _something_ missing. It wasn’t that Bobbi needed total, unequivocal adoration from the people she was involved with - it was just she that she knew when they were holding something back, and Fitz always had.

Maybe his feelings for Jemma were part of the reason he had been so willing to suggest they not have sex together after their first night.

“This would be so much easier if I could hate you,” Bobbi whispered, shutting her eyes tight. She had done the same thing when she and Hunter broke up - dredged up as much hatred for the man as she could manage, hoping it would bury the love. It hadn’t worked then and Bobbi had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t going to work now, either.

“I don’t want you to hate me.” Bobbi’s eyes jumped open when Fitz slid his hand into hers. “But I’m not sure I want you to love me, either.”

“I…” Bobbi wanted to insist she didn’t love him so that wasn’t a problem, but she couldn’t make the words come out. She didn’t love Fitz, not yet, but she had already started down the path and Bobbi Morse didn’t like turning back.

Fitz dropped her hand as suddenly as he had taken it. “What?”

“What do you mean _what_?” Bobbi asked. 

“Do you love me or not?”

“I’ve only known you for a month!” Bobbi was grasping at straws now and both she and Fitz knew it.

“I was in love with Jemma from the moment I saw her. You know love has nothing to do with time.” And he was right - she was still in love with someone she hadn’t seen in a year.

“What does that have to do with any of this?” 

“If you love me, and you love Hunter, and I love Jemma -”

“I thought you said you didn’t want me to love you!” Bobbi interrupted. He seemed to be running through a string of facts that weren’t quite true yet, and -

“Because _I_ already love _you_!” 

Bobbi stepped back, stunned. Fitz hadn’t given any indication he felt so strongly about her. Part of the reason she was so convinced falling in love with him was a bad idea was because there was no way he could ever return her feelings while being so entrenched in Jemma.

“And you’ve been so obsessed with Hunter -”

“I thought you loved Jemma!”

“I can love more than one person at once!” Fitz insisted. “And you’re smarter than you let on, and your laugh gives me butterflies, and I like kissing you so much it _hurts_ and you’re oblivious!”

“I don’t - I can’t -” What the hell was she supposed to say? Turning it around and blaming Fitz for thinking of another woman wasn’t fair when Bobbi was thinking of another man. She had been so lost in her own feelings she hadn’t given Fitz’s a second thought. Now she was even more of an asshole than before, which seemed to be a common theme in her relationships.

“I know you can’t,” Fitz said. “Why do you think I never told you?”

 _Kiss him_ , a part of Bobbi said. _Boys can’t stay mad when you’re kissing them._ But Bobbi didn’t want to do that with Fitz. She had become an expert at using physical intimacy to decrease emotional intimacy across her relationship with Hunter. They’d fight and then they’d fuck to make up instead of using their words like actual adults, and then do it again and again until they barely knew each other anymore.

“I told you I cared -”

“I don’t need you to care!” Fitz nearly shouted. “I just need someone to love me as much as I love them, and apparently I’m cursed or something, so that’s never going to happen!”

“Fitz -” Bobbi swallowed hard. He deserved to know that Jemma wanted to be with him, too, and had just decided it wasn’t going to work out. He deserved to know someone _did_ love him, more than she could. He wasn’t cursed - he just chose the absolute shittiest person to fall in love with when he chose her.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Bobbi suddenly had an idea of how Hunter probably felt when she hung up the phone that morning, because Fitz stormed out of the trailer without giving her a chance to finish her sentence, let alone say goodbye. Bobbi scrubbed her hands over her face.

When the trailer door opened, she perked up, hoping beyond all hope Fitz had come back. He hadn’t, though, and instead Piper was staring at her with raised brows. She must’ve seen Fitz walking away.

“I thought you said you had everything handled,” Piper commented drily.

“I did,” Bobbi defended. “We just… we’re complicated.”

“Sure,” Piper said. Her tone didn’t welcome any further discussion, but Bobbi couldn’t help the words that came spilling out of her mouth anyways.

“He’s in love with my ex-best friend and I think I might still be in love with my ex-fiancé and we’re just…”

“Fucking to take away the pain?”

“We’re not sleeping together!” Why could no one understand it was possible to have a connection with someone, even a romantic connection, without any sex? And sure, the lack of sex didn’t do much to make things less complicated for her (if anything, it made it more complicated that she was having such deep feelings for someone she hadn’t even fucked yet), but it grated on Bobbi nonetheless.

“But you are…” Piper waved her hand vaguely in the air, sinking onto the couch in the trailer with lupine grace.

“We never labelled anything,” Bobbi sighed. “Which I’m beginning to think was a mistake.” Maybe if she and Fitz had just decided they were going to date each other and forget their past romances, they could’ve been happy.

“With all the exes involved it certainly sounds like a mistake.” Bobbi had forgotten Piper wasn’t the best person to go to for a pity party. In fact, no one in her life did the pity thing well, which sucked because all Bobbi wanted right now was for someone to tell her it was okay she felt like shit.

“We didn’t think the exes were involved. Well, _I_ didn’t think the exes were involved.” She swallowed. “But now he says he loves me and I know I’m developing feelings for him, and…”

“And those are two very, very different monsters,” Piper agreed sagely. “He’s pissed you’re not moving as fast as he is, feelings-wise?”

“I think he’s just pissed we’re feeling anything at all when this was just meant to be casual.” Casual and temporary. Even if neither of them had stated as much, it was obvious in how they refused to label their relationship it wasn’t meant to last. They had screwed that up, and badly.

“So, what are you going to do about it?” Piper asked.

“Run away and change my name?” Bobbi joked. Piper quirked an eyebrow up, and Bobbi sighed. Apparently Piper was expecting an actual answer, not her half-assed defense-mechanism response.

“I really don’t know.” Bobbi finally allowed herself to sit on the opposite edge of the sofa, resting her elbows on her knees and her head in her hands. “It seems like only time is going to help, but whenever I think that, shit just gets worse.” She had thought time to adjust would save her relationship with Hunter, but then everything had spiralled down faster than she could keep track of. A pit formed in Bobbi’s stomach when she thought of losing Fitz the same way. He didn’t have nearly as much of her as she had given Hunter, but he was basically the only person she trusted anymore. Losing that would _suck_. And if he found out she knew about Jemma’s feelings for him… 

“If you want my advice,” Piper said, “try just talking to him.”

“That _was_ me trying to talk to him,” Bobbi grumbled. “What do I need to do, organize a meeting with all four of us?” It sounded like maybe the worst idea in the world. Having to see Hunter and be faced yet again with how little he loved her except for when he wanted to control her, and watch Fitz look at Jemma like she was the sun and Bobbi was just the moon… Bobbi wasn’t strong enough for that.

Piper shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt.”

But it could hurt. It could hurt Bobbi.


	6. Chapter 6

If Jemma had seen the pictures of Bobbi and the boys in the tabloids, she didn’t mention it when the two of them met up for coffee again - this time in Jemma’s apartment instead of Starbucks. The place was bright and airy and higher off the ground than any human should comfortably be, and Bobbi had half a mind to ask Jemma how much the film she was doing was paying her, because there was no way this place was cheap.

“Here you are,” Jemma said, pushing a mug into Bobbi’s hands. “I hope it tastes decent. You know how coffee and I disagree.”

Bobbi smiled. Neither of her Brits liked coffee, but it was endearing how hard they both tried for her. Hunter _had_ been endearing, Bobbi thought, correcting herself. She wasn’t going to think about her boys.

 _Her boys_. Who was she, thinking about her ex-fiancé and her ex-whatever-the-hell-Fitz-was as hers? Especially since she hadn’t spoken to either of them since TMZ had decided to fuck her over three days ago. Bobbi turned her attention to the doodle on the side of the mug, smiling when she recognized it from her and Jemma’s middle school sleepover days. They had always stayed up together, drinking mug after mug of hot chocolate until their stomachs hurt and they had run through every secret the other one already knew.

“Did you really ship your owl mug all the way from Ohio?” she asked.

“I didn’t ship it,” Jemma defended, settling next to Bobbi on the sectional with an equally kitschy mug full of tea. “It was in my carry-on when I flew here.”

Bobbi laughed, warmth echoing through her chest. For someone who valued logic so much, Jemma could be downright illogical when it came to sentimentality; Bobbi supposed that was true of most humans, though, herself included.

She took a sip of her coffee and made a face. “Next time I’ll make the drinks,” Bobbi declared, setting the mug down decisively. There was no way she was drinking the rest of that swill.

“Sorry,” Jemma said, curling her knees up against her chest. “Like I said, we don’t agree.”

“I would’ve thought an ex-biochemist would be able to read the instructions on instant coffee,” Bobbi teased. 

“Didn’t you hear?” Jemma asked drily. “Now that I’m famous I have people do boring things like read for me.”

“When do I become famous enough for that?” Bobbi asked, eyebrows ticking up.

“When you get famous enough for your own personal bodyguard.” Jemma rolled her eyes, obviously not thrilled with the prospect of someone following her around twenty-four hours a day. “I still think it’s ridiculous. No one’s going to try to hurt me.”

“It’s not the people who are trying to hurt you that you have to watch out for,” Bobbi corrected. “The dangerous ones are the ones who love you _too_ much.” Bobbi had to use every ounce of her self-control not to wince at the statement. She had been talking about wayward fans, but it almost seemed like…

Moving on. “So what’s your new bodyguard like, then?”

“Oh. Um.” Jemma uncurled herself and set her mug on the table beside Bobbi’s. “He’s, um, Hunter?”

Bobbi blinked once, twice, three times. Hunter was Jemma’s new bodyguard. She ought to be happy for him - he had told her he wanted to get out of the port and into something more personal - but this felt… _too_ personal. “Oh. Well, he’s a good person to have around.” Bobbi released a breath through her nose, reining in her emotions as best as she could. Hunter had always made her feel safe, and it was selfish of her to want to deny Jemma that same safety. Bobbi told herself she should be happy someone she trusted was watching over Jemma, but no matter how many times she repeated the line, it just wouldn’t stick.

“He is.” The corner of Jemma’s lips turned up into something like a smirk, and Bobbi’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that he’s not hard on the eyes.” Jemma shrugged. 

Bobbi couldn’t repress her shudder. “You have the hots for my fiancé?”

“Ex-fiancé, as you so kindly informed me, and keep insisting each and every time we talk about him,” Jemma corrected. Bobbi bit her lip, but couldn’t protest; she was insistent on keeping her relationship with Hunter as unambiguous exes. 

“That doesn’t give you the right to - to -”

“Look at him?” Jemma asked, heat creeping into her voice. “In case you haven’t noticed, Bobbi, Hunter isn’t _yours_! I found him attractive when you two were together but I didn’t do anything since you were obviously in love with him and I’m your friend and it’s despicable to try something with someone who’s taken. But now you’re not in love with him and he’s not taken, and still _all_ I’m doing is looking.”

Words stuck in Bobbi’s throat. She was still in love with Hunter. She knew she was still in love with Hunter - it came up every time she thought about Hunter, most of the times she thought about Fitz, and hell, even sometimes when she thought about Jemma. _She was still in love with Hunter_ , but she couldn’t tell Jemma that. “Will you ever do more than look?” she asked scratchily.

“I don’t know,” Jemma said, tilting her chin upwards in a stubborn incline. “I suppose I’d have to ask him, considering he’s his own person and not a puppet I control.”

“Are you saying I treated him like a puppet?” Bobbi’s eyes narrowed. She couldn’t think of another reason Jemma would choose those words, or say them so… viciously. None of this was like Jemma, but Bobbi couldn’t figure out what had caused the shift in mood so quickly.

“I’m just saying you like to talk like you owned him. Like you claimed him. And then when you were done with him, you tossed him out and -”

“ _Hunter_ broke up with _me_!” Bobbi snapped, voice cracking. “ _He_ ended it. I didn’t - _toss him out_ , he did that to me! And I… I…”

_I still love him._

_I still want him._

_I still_ need _him._

“Either way,” Jemma huffed, “if we’re talking about owning boys, isn’t there something you should tell me about?”

Oh, shit.

“I thought you just said we don’t own them because we care about them. And you said things would never work between you two anyways, so -”

“Just because things would never work doesn’t mean you can _fuck_ him!” Jemma said shrilly.

“I haven’t _fucked Fitz_!” Bobbi _hated_ that people assumed she’d had sex with Fitz, because what they shared felt so much more intimate - not that she would tell Jemma that making out with Fitz on his couch had done more for her than sex with him ever would. 

“Do you think that’s really why I’m upset, Barbara? Do you really think it’s the semantics of whether or not you’ve actually had sex with the person I told you I cared about?”

“You want to have sex with the man I was going to marry, so I don’t think you have space to judge me here!”

“Trust me, there is _plenty_ to judge you for,” Jemma snapped. “Where should we start? Moving to Los Angeles and cutting off contact with everyone you pretended to care about when you were in the middle of nowhere -”

“You said you forgave me for that.”

“I _said_ I didn’t blame you. That doesn’t mean I forgave you.” Jemma’s eyes were chips of stone when they met Bobbi’s - hard and unyielding and mottled with colors Bobbi couldn’t recognize or describe.

Blood rushed to Bobbi’s face, and the tears she had been holding back since admitting Hunter had been the one to initiate the breakup began to fall. It was bad enough everything was tangled and backwards and the two people she thought she loved didn’t want anything to do with her - now Jemma was leaving her, too.

“Then why am I even here?” Bobbi asked through a mostly-closed throat. “I’m not going to beg for your forgiveness for leaving our shithole of a hometown, Jemma. Either I have it or I don’t. And if you won’t even forgive me for a choice I made two years ago, how the hell am I supposed to believe you’ll ever forgive me for Fitz?”

“That’s the _point_ , Bobbi.” Jemma wasn’t crying. Jemma was still stone-cold, eyes pointed forward, back ramrod straight. “I keep trying to forgive you, and then you keep doing things that need to be forgiven. Dating a bunch of sleazebags, needing me to pick you up from shady places in the middle of the night, constantly forgetting to call me back…I always knew I was going to reach the end of my rope, but I didn’t think it would ever happen like this.”

“That’s not fair,” Bobbi croaked. Shame on her, for believing life had to be fair in the first place. “I’ve forgiven you for plenty, too.”

“Name one thing you _actually_ had to forgive me for.”

“Apparently having the hots for my fiancé while we were still together!”

“Just thinking something doesn’t make me a bad person,” Jemma replied smoothly. “Tell me one thing I did you had to forgive me for.”

A rush of images flooded through Bobbi’s brain.

_The time you stuck ten sticks of bubblegum in my hair… and then spent the whole afternoon trying to help me get it out._

_The time you pushed me on the playground… and then helped me up._

_The time you laughed when I cried… until you realized I was really crying and not just faking it._

_The time you wouldn’t kiss me when we played Spin the Bottle and I spent the whole night wondering if anyone would ever love me if my best friend couldn’t._

_All the times in high school we slept in the same bed and you were gone when I woke up in the morning._

_The time I left for college and you didn’t say goodbye because it would be “too hard” and then I cried myself to sleep, alone in my dorm room._

_The time I was drunk out of my mind and called you and you didn’t pick up even though there was something really fucking important I had to say._

Bobbi hadn’t remembered that drunken night before now. She remembered getting drunk with her college roommate and all her friends, but how she had ended up sitting on the floor of her dorm room in a too-tight dress, calling Jemma over and over and over without leaving a voicemail. There had been something she wanted to say that was beyond voicemail worthy, but Bobbi couldn’t imagine what she couldn’t tell Jemma, unless -

Holy mother of God.

She couldn’t be -?

No, she definitely wasn’t -

Oh, she most assuredly was.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Hunter, she could handle. Fitz was fine. But Jemma…

Jemma was supposed to be safe, Jemma was supposed to be certain, Jemma was supposed to be the one she could go to when the world was falling down.

So of course Bobbi had to be in love with her. Of course she did, because she ruined everything and everyone she loved and she couldn’t help but ruin one more person, one more relationship. 

It wasn’t fucking fair.

 _Walk away, Morse_ , a part of her urged. _Walk away and don’t look back_.

Could she really walk away from Jemma? She had already walked away from Hunter, her soul. She had walked away from Fitz, her heart. Could she walk away from Jemma, and leave her head behind, too?

Could Bobbi honestly, truly tell herself she was fine with all the best parts of her being left with other people?

“I’m waiting,” Jemma said.

 _I’m kind of having a crisis here,_ Bobbi wanted to respond, brushing away the last of the tears from her face.

Telling her best friend (ex-best friend?) she was in love with her while they were in the middle of a falling out seemed like a bad idea. Bobbi cleared her throat.

“You never come to say goodbye,” she said instead.

It was true. Jemma hadn’t come to say goodbye when Bobbi shipped off to college, but she had also refused to be at the airport when Bobbi took her plane to L.A., too. They had said goodbye the night before, but it hadn’t felt proper. Nothing really felt like the end until she was walking through security and realizing she couldn’t ask her mom for one last hug or her dad for another last-minute tip on how to make it in the city.

It hadn’t felt like the end, because Bobbi couldn’t believe there would be an ending without Jemma there.

“My world doesn’t revolve around you,” Jemma said, but most of the anger had drained from her voice in the face of a legitimate grievance.

“But mine did revolve around _you_ ,” Bobbi whispered. The space between them on the sofa suddenly seemed like a yawning chasm instead of a single cushion’s width, and all Bobbi wanted was for Jemma to be the one to reach out and bridge the gap.

She didn’t.

“Everything I did was for you,” she said. She couldn’t believe she was saying this - couldn’t believe it took an argument of this magnitude for her to realize what was in front of her face all along. “The boys - and girls - were to make you jealous. The late-night excursions were to make sure you were never with anyone else, the calling back...” _The calling back was so I knew you would love me no matter how fucked up I got_.

“I don’t understand,” Jemma said, furrowing her brow.

“I think you do.”

Jemma had softened somewhere in the midst of Bobbi’s admission, her shoulders slumping forward, her eyes widening into doe-like pools of melted chocolate.

She smelled nice. How had Bobbi never noticed before how nice Jemma smelled? Or how soft her lips looked, or-

 _Focus_.

“I fell in love with a tiny brunette girl with a funny voice when I was nine years old. And then I spent the next fifteen years telling myself I didn’t love her, so much so I didn’t even realize love was the word until she tried to leave me.” Bobbi licked her lips, trying to ward off her dry mouth. “And I know you don’t feel the same and this is the worst timing in the world, but I’m never going to forgive myself if I don’t do this now.”

They had spent the past fifteen minutes arguing about the boys they loved, and Bobbi was certain Jemma didn’t expect what happened next.

The canyon between them contracted until it was just a sofa again - a sofa Bobbi could easily lean across to fit her mouth against Jemma’s. Jemma let out a surprised squeak, creating just enough of an opening for Bobbi to slide her tongue into her friend’s mouth. Jemma tasted like tea with milk and sugar, like muggy Ohio air, like Los Angeles sunshine, like everything Bobbi wanted but had never been able to find.

She couldn’t hold back the moan that wormed its way up her throat as she stroked her tongue through Jemma’s mouth one last time before pulling away.

“I’m sorry,” Bobbi breathed as she pushed herself to standing. She couldn’t bear to look at Jemma, to see the disgust and betrayal that would be so clearly written on her friend’s face. Bobbi didn’t taste like tea and sunshine - she probably tasted like shitty coffee and smog and regret. “I’m sorry, Jemma, but I have to go.”

She fled her friend’s apartment before Jemma could get a word in, though Bobbi did spend a solid three minutes with her back leaned against Jemma’s door, trying to steady her erratic heartbeat and breathing. Her skin felt three sizes too small and even though the air conditioning in Jemma’s building was at full blast, Bobbi might as well have been in the middle of the desert.

She kept waiting for Jemma to open the door. It was a delusion she wanted to indulge in - that this time, Jemma would insist on saying goodbye. This time, Jemma would chase her. This time, things would be different, because Jemma knew how Bobbi felt. If she knew how Bobbi felt, Jemma would have to do something, wouldn’t she?

But the door didn’t open, even long after her near-panic attack had subsided.

Bobbi needed to go home. She repeated the word _home_ over and over in her head as she walked down the stairs from Jemma’s apartment and sat in her car, but no matter how many times she repeated the word, the picture of her apartment never coalesced.

Home was Hunter and his scratchy stubble and his love like a hurricane. Home was Fitz and his careful hands and his quiet, steady presence. Home was Jemma and her sunshine smile and her ability to change hearts like the weather. 

Even when she swung open the door to her bedroom, the feeling of relief that came with being at home never arrived. She wanted Hunter, she wanted Fitz, she wanted Jemma. 

And that was the crux of the issue, wasn’t it? She wanted all three of them, but in her indecision she had lost all of them. If she hadn’t been caught up in Fitz, she could’ve tried harder to convince Hunter to take her back. If she hadn’t been in love with Jemma she wouldn’t have ignored Fitz that first night at the party. If she hadn’t been twisted around by the boys and almost slept with Fitz, she wouldn’t be in hot water with Jemma.

But she had, and in trying to have everything, now she had nothing.

She was in a city of millions of people, and somehow, she still managed to end up alone.

Bobbi collapsed into her bed, regretting the choice to have it so big. Instead of cradling her the bed was swallowing her whole, reminding her there was no one to protect her, nothing to keep her safe. 

She didn’t want to be alone anymore, but she had obliterated all of her chances at having someone. She’d had three people who had _cared_ more than she deserved and she had fucked it up.

Bobbi hated the world.

She hated her life.

She hated love.

Most of all?

She hated herself.


	7. Chapter 7

She went to work.

She came home.

She went to work.

She came home.

Again, and again, and again, for a week, two - Bobbi didn’t know, and honestly, she didn’t care.

The color had drained out of Bobbi’s life, and so had the joy. She had gotten by like this before, mostly by ignoring everything except her career, but now she was acutely aware of the hole in her chest where Hunter, Jemma, and Fitz had once been. Only talking to Piper helped curb some of the ache, though Piper _constantly_ talking about her girlfriend also chafed on Bobbi and her romantic woes. The other woman didn’t even know why Bobbi had suddenly taken an interest in her, just accepted Bobbi was going to bother her at every given opportunity.

It wasn’t the same. Of course it wasn’t.

Bobbi woke up prepared to drag herself out of bed and to her agent’s office so they could talk about scheduling Bobbi’s next shoot. Instead she was faced with a deluge of text messages from her agent, and a few from Piper, all saying the same thing: look at TMZ.

Fucking TMZ.

Bobbi’s irritation warped into horror the moment she read the headline.

_Bobbi Morse’s Nudes Leak!_

She managed to swallow her revulsion long enough to skim the article. Pictures of her, naked, had been posted on some porn site and were quickly circulating. Breaking the internet, the article said. Millions of hits, the article said. Millions of hits and millions of eyes, just because one person had posted a picture.

There were only two people Bobbi had ever sent naked pictures of herself to: Hunter, and…

Grant Ward.

God, she had known he was a tool, but she had never thought he’d be _that_ much of a tool, or she wouldn’t have sent the damn pictures in the first place.

She took a deep breath, resisting the urge to track the bastard down and punch him in the face. It would feel good but it wouldn’t help her get out of this mess of a PR scandal, or -

Bobbi froze, bile suddenly rising in her throat.

There were actual pictures of her, actually naked, on the internet. Permanently. She would never be able to look people in the eye anymore, safe in the knowledge they’d never seen her unclothed without her consent. 

She used to have dignity. Even if people read trash tabloids and believed what they said about her cheating on her boyfriends, Bobbi had known the truth. She hadn’t ever cheated, and the only person she’d ever lied to was herself. 

Bobbi tried to tell herself she still had dignity, but the words rang hollow. Millions of people had seen her naked. _Millions_. The pictures hadn’t been taken down, and even if she could get a lawyer to serve a cease and desist, there would still, inevitably, be copies somewhere - on hard drives or print outs or on obscure little corners of the Internet search engines couldn’t quite reach. She would never be free of this, no matter what she did.

She curled her knees to her chest, placing her head between them. Being in a ball didn’t help anything; if anything, it made Bobbi feel worse, because she was so fucking _small_ and now she felt that way too. She was small, and helpless, and someone else could take a picture of her and use it to drag her from an emotional low to rock fucking bottom.

Bobbi wanted Fitz.

It felt strange, that her first reaction in the midst of a crisis wasn’t _Hunter_ , but Fitz had always been… safe. Steady. She loved Hunter but he was like a thunderstorm, hot rain and bright lightning and sticky sweet air and explosive thunder. She didn’t need Hunter’s chaos when she had a storm of her own breaking.

Fitz probably thought she was a slut now. So did Jemma, and Hunter. Bobbi could handle the rest of the world believing the worst in her, but it was thinking of the people she loved that finally broke Bobbi. Tears came pouring out, thick and fast and blinding. She wanted Fitz - she wanted him to hold her and tell her it was going to be okay and hand her tissues so she wasn’t a snotty, soaking mess.

He wasn’t there, though. He would never be there again because she hadn’t done enough to hold onto him.

The tears didn’t subside until Bobbi’s chest was aching and even emptier than it had been. She felt scoured clean, but not in a good way. Instead it felt like anything good she had been was stripped away, leaving behind only the bad and the ugly. Bobbi was beginning to doubt she had ever been good at all.

She sniffled one last time before uncurling herself and sitting up. She picked up her abandoned phone, clicking out of the damning article and instead viewing the deluge of text messages her agent had sent her.

By the end of her reading Bobbi wanted to curl up again. The language was pretty and flowery and not at all damning, but the message was the opposite: Bobbi was being dropped. She was too much of a liability now, with all her negative press and recent complaints from directors that she hadn’t been all the way present for her recent photoshoots. This was just the nail in her coffin.

Her last check would be sent to her by mail.

 _We hope you understand,_ the last text read.

She didn’t understand.

She didn’t understand how her life had gone from decent but lonely to awful and even lonelier. There was one simple answer staring her in the face, but Bobbi didn’t want to believe it. It was hard enough accepting her relationships had all crumbled because of her. Now she was supposed to accept it was her fault she was miserable in every other way, too?

Bobbi still had three unread text messages, all from Piper. She was braced for them to be more of the same - sorry, can’t be seen with you anymore, hope you understand - but instead, it was an invitation to come over. To talk.

Add that to the list of things Bobbi didn’t understand. Piper was being too nice, and it was suspicious. Suspicious, but not suspicious enough so Bobbi wasn’t going to take up the offer. She took another deep breath, replied she’d be over in an hour, and finally dragged herself out of bed.

She would feel better after a shower and a change of clothes.

\---

Unsurprisingly, just showering didn’t do much to help Bobbi feel better. Neither did being surrounded by paparazzi the moment she exited her apartment. She ducked her head and avoided making eye contact with the paps, grateful for the moment she ducked into her car and was able to drive away from them.

Piper answered the door exactly three seconds after Bobbi knocked, ushering her in while simultaneously checking to make sure she hadn’t been followed.

It occurred to Bobbi that despite knowing Piper for three years she had never been in the other woman’s apartment, and Piper had never been in hers. They hadn’t ever talked to each other except for when they were working the same shoots, and when Piper occasionally texted Bobbi.

Bobbi furrowed her brow. Had she ever texted Piper first?

Bobbi stuck her hands in the pockets of the jacket she was wearing. Hunter’s jacket. She had spent more time than she’d like to admit agonizing over the decision, but in the absence of anyone she loved being able to hold her, Bobbi figured it was the next-best thing. It still smelled faintly of Hunter, and even though it reminded her of how much she missed him, it was the only comfort she had.

“Nice place,” she said awkwardly, lingering in the entryway.

Piper raised her eyebrows. “Thanks, but I didn’t ask you over to talk about my decor choices.”

Bobbi shoved her hands deeper in the pockets, wondering if the jacket would ever be able to swallow her whole. She hoped so. “Right.”

“C’mon,” Piper said, leading Bobbi into the kitchen. There wasn’t a table, just two bar stools at the counter. One of them had a glass of orange juice and a half-eaten slice of toast in front of it; the other was empty. Bobbi sat at the empty seat, feeling conspicuously tall when Piper also sat down.

“So. Today sucks for you,” Piper began bluntly.

“Uh, yeah.” Bobbi fidgeted. She had been expecting questions, and that wasn’t one. “This whole… _thing_ has sucked.” Bobbi had a feeling Piper understood what she meant; the sudden media attention, the fallout from her personal relationships, everything else - it sucked. It wasn’t fun and Bobbi would like it all to be done with.

The best way out was through, her mother had always said. Bobbi just wasn’t sure how she was going to get through when everyone she cared about wasn’t there to help her.

Everyone except Piper.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Bobbi blurted out.

“Because I think you’re a good person.” Piper’s voice was quiet, but held an intensity Bobbi didn’t expect. “I think you’re a good person who keeps making shit choices, and I’ve watched you make those shit choices and stood back because I thought we weren’t close enough for me to be able to do anything about it, and it landed you here. So I decided stepping back wasn’t helping either of us and if I intervened now I could stop your trainwreck before you take other people down with you.”

“Who is there left to take down?” Bobbi asked miserably. “Like you said, you’re far back. I can’t hurt you. Everyone else left.”

“Would you stop with the damn pity party?” Piper snapped. “The reason Fitz left is because you weren’t being good to him. From what it sounds like he wasn’t exactly being good to you, either, but that doesn’t make you any less wrong for sleeping around.”

“Why the _fuck_ does everyone think I’m an adulteress!?” Bobbi exclaimed. “I broke up with Hunter _last year_ and haven’t slept with him since.”

“So that jacket’s Fitz’s, then?”

Fuck.

“Thought not,” Piper said, sipping her orange juice smugly. “Listen. I get it. Frankly, it was irresponsible of both of you to start your thing before having a talk about whether or not you were ready for any kind of commitment.”

“Were you a therapist in another life?”

“My girlfriend’s in school for social work. She has to take psych classes for it and I’m her study buddy, but that’s not the point. I know your situation isn’t good. I don’t blame you for being unhappy with it. But you’re fucking _wallowing_ , and that I can blame you for.” Piper finished her orange juice in one long swallow, then slid the glass down the bar towards the sink. “But I wouldn’t be staging this intervention if I didn’t believe you were capable of fixing your life up.” Piper paused. “I don’t like wasting my time. Are you going to waste my time, Morse?”

“Depends on whether you’re actually going to say something useful or just keep preaching.”

Much to Bobbi’s surprise, Piper laughed. “At least the nude leak didn’t take your fire, huh?”

“I cried for like, an hour.” Bobbi admitted. That sure felt like losing her fire to her.

“In the grand scheme of things, it’s not that long,” Piper said, shrugging. “You got it out.”

“Yeah, because it wasn’t changing anything.” What was the use in bawling her heart out for the next few days if everything was going to stay the same? Bobbi had no idea where to start with fixing her life, but crying had felt like ripping herself into more pieces instead of putting pieces back together.

“That’s the kind of attitude I like.”

“If this is going to work I’m going to need you to be less high school gym teacher about it.”

“You actually went to gym in high school?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You see, it’s this stuff we would know about each other if we actually hung out.”

“Yeah.” Bobbi ran her fingers through her hair. “So, you said you think I’m a good person despite all the evidence I’ve given you to the contrary. Why?”

“Well, you fell in love with Fitz, of all people. And everyone talks about how gorgeous he is but you didn’t seem to care about that. You liked him because he was kind to you, which goes against the whole vapid model persona you built up for yourself when you broke up with your ex.”

“When my ex broke up with me,” Bobbi corrected softly. She had made a business of not setting the record straight when people made assumptions about how her relationship with Hunter had ended, but that needed to stop.

“Right,” Piper said. “And even before that… no one pretends not to care as much as you do unless they actually care a whole lot.”

“Your girlfriend must be getting great grades in those psych courses.”

“Yeah.” Piper’s mouth curled up. “She’s pretty cool. But I also like to pretend I’m kind of good at reading people.”

“I used to be. Good at reading people, I mean.”

“But then you became more self-centered than Tony Stark.”

Bobbi winced. “Okay, maybe we can go back to high school gym teacher.”

“Sorry,” Piper’s mouth said. Her face said she wasn’t sorry at all. 

“So. We’ve established I’m irresponsible in my relationships, I care too much, and I’m a narcissist. Let’s not forget that my rebound from my ex-fiancé somehow decided he hated me enough that my nudes needed to be plastered on every gossip rag on both sides of the Atlantic. What are my next steps?”

Piper barked out a laugh. “I’m not telling you that.”

Bobbi pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Like I said, I’m good at observing people. And I know you’re smart enough to figure out what will make this situation better. As you can probably tell, I don’t believe in coddling.”

“No kidding,” Bobbi muttered.

“Take as long as you need to think about it. I’m gonna make some coffee.”

“Coffee and orange juice?” Bobbi asked dubiously.

“Listen, you gotta do what you gotta do. Coffee, or no?”

“No, thank you.”

Bobbi closed her eyes as she listened to Piper bustle around the kitchen to make coffee. This was not at all how she expected their meeting to go - other than the oblique mention to Grant she had just made, this was more a ‘fix Bobbi’s life’ thing than a ‘pity Bobbi who just had her nudes leaked’ thing. She found she was oddly okay with it; for all the times she had complained to herself about Piper being bad at pity, Bobbi had desperately needed a little tough love (or a lot).

Her mind wandered, and Bobbi knew she was actively avoiding thinking about the problem at hand, but she needed to process other things about her conversation with Piper first.

Would she ever be over Hunter enough that she could enter into a new relationship with a clear conscience? The more Bobbi thought about it, the less certain she was. She started as a definite yes, then swung to a definite no, and then settled somewhere in the middle. She could be with someone who wasn’t Hunter - if that someone was Fitz or Jemma. They were the only two who could ever make it possible for her to get over her ex permanently.

Beyond romantic relationships, though, Bobbi also had to consider her platonic relationships - namely, the new one with Piper. She had learned more about the other woman in the past fifteen minutes than she had in three years, and that wasn’t okay. If she had any hope of dragging herself out of the hole once and for all, she needed friends like Piper. Friends who were willing to put up with some of her shit, but also call her on it when it got too bad. Friends who actually gave a damn about her beyond how she looked or how far she could get them.

Friends who believed she was a good person.

“Any ideas?” Piper asked.

Bobbi pried her eyes open. “I was just thinking about you.”

Piper snorted. “Okay. What about me?”

“About how I haven’t been a good friend. Or a friend at all, I guess.” Bobbi rocked from side to side on the bar stool. “I want to change that, but I’m still working on how.”

“Start with: thanks, Piper.”

“Thanks, Piper,” Bobbi parroted obediently. “For caring when you didn’t have to. Not everyone gets that chance and, uh, it’s special to me.” She cleared her throat nervously. “And I’m sorry I haven’t done anything to deserve this, I guess. I’m sorry I haven’t cared about you the same way you’ve cared about me.”

“Not bad,” Piper said with a nod. She blew on her coffee, then took a sip. 

Bobbi laughed when she pulled a face.

“Maybe a good call on not mixing the orange juice and coffee,” Piper said, face still contorted in horror.

“If you want to keep being my friend I can tell you other ill-advised food combinations,” Bobbi offered. “I was really dumb in high school.”

“How dumb?”

“Pomegranate juice mixed with fish sauce.”

“Why?!”

“Okay, well… So obviously I’m into Fitz and I’m still kind of in love with Hunter, but I also recently realized I’ve had a crush on my best friend since we were kids? But anyways, I did it because she dared me to and I can’t say no to pretty girls,” Bobbi said in a rush.

“...Man, you’re even more messed up than I thought.”

“Sorry,” Bobbi answered with a grimace.

“No, no. It’s good. If anyone understands being painfully gay and unable to say no to pretty girls it’s me.”

“Yeah, I got that, with the girlfriend and all.”

Piper laughed. “How come I’ve never heard you were bi before?”

“I don’t really talk about it? Last time I mentioned it I ended up in this really gross photoshoot where I was supposed to kiss straight girls using lots of tongue and it was _not_ fun.”

Piper’s face scrunched in the same way it had when she’d just drank the coffee.

“Yeah,” Bobbi sighed.

“So, we kind of got off topic, but… next steps?” Piper prompted, not unkindly.

“I guess one apology is a good place to start, but I owe… at least three more.” Bobbi resisted the urge to sigh again. “Because you’re right. About it being irresponsible to go chasing after Fitz when I was hung up on Hunter, so I should apologize to him. And I kind of kissed my best friend when I had my ‘I’m in love with you’ epiphany and that’s not cool, so I should apologize to her. And God knows I’ve dragged Hunter into all my messes and I feel like I’ve dragged him into this one too, so…”

“Three apologies isn’t that hard,” Piper said, probably attempting to be encouraging. Bobbi didn’t feel encouraged.

“I just… giving apologies doesn’t mean they’ll be accepted.” Bobbi bit her lip. “I… I really don’t know how to live my life without them. All of them. But I know I’ll respect their decisions, so…”

“So you might have to live without them,” Piper finished, nodding. “Yeah. And that’s gonna hurt, probably really bad. But I think you’re kind of stuck with me now, and the odds all of them will reject you are pretty low, when you think about it.”

“How do you reckon?”

“Well, from my super-badass observational skills, I could tell Fitz really cares about you, too. Like, a lot. I can’t speak for the other two but I can’t imagine a universe where that boy will say no to you if you give him a real, heartfelt apology and tell him the ways you’re gonna change.”

“What if I can’t? Change?”

“You can. You gotta believe you can,” Piper answered firmly.

“The steps you take don’t have to be big,” Bobbi murmured to herself, “they just have to take you in the right direction.”

“What’s that?”

“Nothing - just something Jemma used to tell me when I was getting discouraged.”

“Anything that works, works,” Piper said. “You wanna crash here for a while? I imagine your place is crazy.”

“It is,” Bobbi agreed. “But I think… I think I should get started on those apologies sooner rather than later.” She needed to do damage control, anyways - see how much the incident had changed her people’s opinions of her.

“Of course.” Piper stood up when Bobbi did. “If you need backup, call me, okay?”

“Thank you, Piper. For everything.” Bobbi said.

“Don’t sweat it.”

Then, something weird happened: Bobbi hugged someone she had known for years for the first time. And even though the event itself was weird, the hug didn’t feel strange at all - it felt right. Comforting. The way Bobbi wished she had felt when she was curled up in a ball on her bed that morning.

She had someone in her corner, and dammit if Bobbi wasn’t going to come back from this.


	8. Chapter 8

Bobbi sat in her car for far, far too long before mustering up the courage to go up to Fitz’s apartment. Even standing outside the door, she wondered if it would be better just to turn back. She didn’t really believe it, though - she knew thinking about all the ways this could go wrong was her brain’s way of distracting her from how it could go right. Oddly, the thought of Fitz forgiving her was almost as terrifying as him not.

It was only when she began shivering that Bobbi made her move. She had peeled off Hunter’s jacket in the car, not wanting to wear a memento of another man when going to meet Fitz. Hopefully, when this conversation ended, she wouldn’t need Hunter’s jacket and the semblance of security it provided, because she’d have something better. She counted the seconds while she waited, wondering what would happen if Fitz wasn’t in, but then the door swung open, revealing the man himself.

“I’m really sorry,” she blurted out before he could slam the door in her face. “About everything. You were good to me and I was bad to you and I kissed you when I shouldn’t have and I also kissed _Jemma_ when I shouldn’t have and I wanted to kiss Hunter when I shouldn’t have and I’m pretty sure you’re the best thing ever to happen to me and I want to apologize more but you’re looking at me funny so I’ll shut up now.”

Bobbi forced her mouth shut, aware of how little she had managed to say in so many words.

“You’d better come in,” Fitz said.

Entering his apartment felt like entering a dream. Bobbi had been there since the first time, but most of her memories involved kissing Fitz, and she hated not having that option.

She took a deep breath and tried again with her apology. “I’ve been really, really self-centered basically since the moment we met, and I owe you an apology for that, so I’m sorry. And I’m sorry for falling in love with you while being in love with Hunter because I know that made life harder for both of us, and I’m sorry for not being honest about my feelings, either. I should have told you what you meant to me before I lost you, and I didn’t. I was a shitty friend and a shitty… I dunno, girlfriend? Whatever we were. I was bad at it, and you deserve better, and I wanted to tell you that and apologize for everything I didn’t do. Um, yeah.”

Fitz just kept staring at her like he didn’t know what to make of her speech. 

“That’s all I had to say, so I’ll go -”

“No,” Fitz interrupted, grabbing Bobbi’s wrist as she made towards the door. “I just need a minute to think.”

Bobbi managed a nod, the adrenaline coursing through her veins making it near-impossible to wait the minute Fitz needed to process what she had said. 

“Thank you for apologizing,” Fitz said slowly. Bobbi braced herself for impact - the inevitable _but it doesn’t change anything between us._

It didn’t come.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered.

“I think we both know it wasn’t all your fault. I should’ve done better - been better - too. And I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not, though. I - _we_ \- messed up this relationship, and each other. And it’s not okay.” Fitz’s voice was fierce. “But we can fix it.”

“Fix it?” Bobbi repeated hopefully.

“How I feel about you hasn’t changed. I’m not going to say it again because I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it back, but… you know, don’t you?”

“I do.” _He still loved her._ The fear sitting heavy in her chest began to ease.

“And in the interest of being better this time around, I think I should tell you I saw… what happened.”

Just like that, cold came crashing back in.

“You saw?” she croaked. Of course she had been expecting it, had been prepared for Fitz to know what had happened and for his opinion of her to change because of it, but it still hurt.

“Not the pictures,” Fitz rushed to assure her. “I saw the articles about them but I didn’t see the pictures. If you had wanted me to see you… like that, you would’ve shown me yourself.”

“You didn’t see the pictures,” Bobbi repeated. She knew he had _just_ said that but her brain couldn’t quite wrap around the truth. Someone who was attracted to her, knowing full well he could’ve seen pictures of her naked, had decided… not to look at them?

“I didn’t want to see them,” Fitz repeated firmly. “I want _you_ to show me you, if and when you’re ever ready. I don’t want anyone else to show me you, especially not without your permission.”

Bobbi stumbled forward, wrapping her arms around Fitz in a bear hug. He placed his arms around her in turn, squeezing tightly when she buried her head in his shoulder. His touch alone was overwhelming with how comforting it was. Tears leaked down her cheeks and she struggled to catch her breath, once again aware of how good of a person Leo Fitz was and how little she’d done to deserve him.

“It’s so stupid,” Bobbi sniffled. “You’re one of the only people in the world who I don’t care about seeing them and you just… just _didn’t_.”

“It was never an option,” Fitz whispered into her hair. “Look at me.” He stepped back from her, but reached his hands up to cradle her face between them. His hands were warm and somewhere between silk and satin in terms of softness. Bobbi sniffed again, watery eyes meeting Fitz’s. 

“If you ever doubted what I would do in a situation like this, I’m sorry. But I respect you and I respect your body and the choices you make with it. Grant had no right to do what he did.”

“I never said it was Grant.” 

“Process of elimination.” Fitz cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I, uh, maybe threatened Hunter.”

“You did _what_!?” Bobbi squeaked.

“I didn’t know if he had done it! And if he had I was going to - to -”

“Oh my God, Fitz!” Bobbi said, tears suddenly replaced with laughter. It felt strange to laugh, now of all times, but the cold that kept creeping up on her was blasted away by the action. “Hunter would wipe the floor with you!”

“I know,” Fitz chuckled. “I know. But no one does that to my girl and gets away with it.”

“Your girl?”

“I mean.” Fitz flushed. “If you want to be.”

Bobbi tugged him into her, once again wrapping him close but for an entirely different reason. Kissing Fitz felt like coming home, and Bobbi was desperate for the feeling never to end; she needed home now more than ever. Her mouth opened under his, Fitz’s tongue careful but insistent as he explored her mouth, relearning everything he could while she did the same to him.

When they were appropriately reacquainted, Bobbi withdrew, but not by much. She left her forehead resting on Fitz’s, her hands linked around the nape of his neck and her eyes still trained on his.

“Please don’t threaten Hunter again,” Bobbi pleaded quietly. “I want you but I can’t - I won’t -” She couldn’t have Hunter hurting, plain and simple. Him being the one to leak the pictures of her had never even crossed her mind, because that wasn’t who he was; she wanted Fitz to trust that, too.

“I know,” Fitz interrupted. “I know how you feel about him and I’m okay with that. But I had to be sure.”

“Are you going to hunt down Grant now?” she asked, mostly joking.

He didn’t answer.

“Fitz?” Bobbi suddenly was very, very worried.

“Ask me no questions and I will tell you no lies,” he said eventually. “Please.”

Bobbi breathed in, then out, slow and steady. “I trust you.” She would have to, because this didn’t seem like something Fitz was willing to budge on.

“Good.” Fitz paused. “Can I kiss you again?”

The question startled Bobbi enough that it took her a long second to answer. “Yes.”

“You know if you ever don’t -”

“Fitz,” Bobbi said sternly. “I get it. We won’t do things I don’t want to, my body is mine, et cetera.” She didn’t want to make light of the situation she found herself in, but Bobbi found the idea of being serious much longer distasteful. She’d already had way too many hard conversations, and it was barely noon. “Right now what I want is you. I want to kiss you and I want to touch you and I want to talk to you and I need you to believe I’ll tell you if I'm ever not okay.”

“I know.” Fitz’s eyes slid closed. “I just worry about you.”

“Hey,” Bobbi whispered. Fitz opened his eyes again. “Thank you for worrying, but I’m not going to let this break me. There’ll be more tears and more freakouts and more… everything. But this was my wakeup call, and now I am _wide_ awake and I can see what’s in front of me. And I have no doubt you would never take advantage of me the way Grant has. And I would really like to stop talking about all this serious stuff and just make out with you.”

Fitz breathed out a laugh. “I think we can manage that.”

“Good.” Bobbi smiled. “Now, as I remember, that sofa’s awfully comfortable…”

\---

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” Fitz asked, lifting his head out of Bobbi’s lap so he could see her face when she answered.

“If you’re okay with that.” She combed his fingers through his hair, humming softly. The movie playing in the background was half lulling her to sleep anyways. 

“Of course. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“It’s not the loneliness I’m worried about,” Bobbi admitted. “I really don’t want to have to deal with the paparazzi.”

Fitz honest-to-God growled. 

“Tone down the overprotectiveness there, honey,” Bobbi hummed, running a soothing hand through his hair again.

“Sorry,” Fitz said, not at all repentant. “It’s hard not to be, all things considered.”

Bobbi nodded. In the twelve hours since she had come to Fitz’s apartment, she’d cried two more times and had one near panic attack thinking about the future. Even after the fervor around her nudes leaking died down, she still didn’t have an agent anymore, and likely wouldn’t find work easily. Everything was big and scary and the only thing keeping her from another complete and total breakdown was Fitz’s steady presence and constant reassurance.

 _I don’t know when it’ll be alright, but it will be, someday,_ he’d promised. _And if it’s not, then I’ll make it._

“Do you have some spare pillows? I can crash on the couch.”

“You’ll do no such thing!” Fitz sputtered. “I have a bed and you’ll use it, with or without me in it.”

“With, hmm?” Bobbi teased.

“Only if you want.”

Bobbi considered the offer. Putting aside how guilty she’d feel stealing Fitz’s bed and not inviting him into it… she still wanted him to be there. She wanted to be able to hold him, or have him hold her. Preferably both. It felt fast, so soon after their reconciliation - especially since their first wobbling attempt at a relationship hadn’t been that deep to begin with.

It felt fast, but it also felt right, and Bobbi knew better than to question her own judgment.

“I want.” 

“Come on, then.” Fitz sat up, and Bobbi immediately missed the warmth in her lap. She followed him out of the living room into his bedroom, blinking at how small the bed was. She was too used to her behemoth bed and its endless expanse of space.

“If you don’t -” Fitz began, mistaking her surprise with hesitation.

“Do you want to be the big spoon or little spoon?”

“Who said we’re spooning?” Fitz asked with a smirk.

“Me.” Bobbi knocked her shoulder against his. “Don’t forget you gave me the power to kick you out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah.” 

Fitz’s face suddenly fell.

“Okay?” Bobbi asked. Was he regretting his decision already?

“I normally just sleep in my boxers. Is that okay?”

Bobbi’s mouth went dry. “No sex?” The thought of being naked around someone, even Fitz, made her feel physically ill.

“No sex,” Fitz promised, pressing his hand between her shoulder blades. “If you’re not okay with it, I’ll find some sweatpants.”

She swallowed hard. “No, I’m good. I’m fine. But I’m keeping my clothes on.”

“If you want to change into something more comfortable, I can loan you some things,” Fitz suggested.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Fitz’s thumb traced over the outline of her shoulder. “You’re very stubborn, you know that?”

“I’ve been told,” Bobbi answered drily. “If you’re sure you’re fine, I’d appreciate a change of clothes. Please.” Wearing jeans to bed when she didn’t have to was a level of stubbornness not even she could reach.

Five minutes later she had on a pair of Fitz’s sweats and a battered tee. The sweatpants were more like highwaters on her and the tee stretched almost uncomfortably across her chest, but they were soft and smelled like Fitz. 

“Big or little spoon?” Bobbi repeated as she padded back into the bedroom.

“Big,” Fitz answered. Bobbi smiled, secretly pleased. She liked being the little spoon more than she’d admit, and tonight she especially needed the safety of someone’s arms around her.

She wriggled into bed beside him, allowing Fitz to make most of the adjustments to create a more comfortable sleeping arrangement. He hooked his head over her shoulder and wrapped his arm around her waist, hand resting on her stomach just above the waistband of the sweats.

Despite it being the middle of summer, Bobbi still tugged the covers up to cover most of them. As she had discovered on numerous occasions, the air conditioning in Fitz’s apartment complex was robust. Even if it wasn’t, she liked the safety of having something covering her.

“Thank you for today,” Bobbi murmured into the darkness. Between the bouts of crying she had been happier than she could remember being in a long time. She finally felt like she had a relationship that was on a firm foundation.

Shit. She needed to remember to text Piper and tell her how the apology had gone down.

“You’re welcome.” Fitz kissed her neck gently. “I’m glad you came to me.”

“Me too,” Bobbi whispered.

“Are you going to stay tomorrow?”

“I… I’ll stay as long as you’ll let me.”

“Forever, then?”

Bobbi chuckled softly. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know.”

“Go to sleep, Fitz.”

“ _You_ go to sleep.”

“I asked first.”

“I asked second.”

“Oh my God, we’re never going to sleep, are we?”

\---

The bed was still warm when Bobbi woke, but Fitz wasn’t in it. She whined, displeased, but the sound didn’t summon him. Drat.

She took the brief moment of alone time to text Piper. _I think I have a boyfriend?_

Piper’s response pinged almost immediately. _DTR!!!!!!_

Bobbi rolled her eyes at the excess exclamation points, but she couldn’t disagree with Piper. Things had gone horribly wrong with Fitz the first time because they’d failed to define their relationship, and Bobbi wasn’t going to let them make the same mistake a second time.

She padded out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Fitz was standing in front of the counter, two mugs in front of him. Bobbi made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around him and resting her chin against his shoulder.

“Morning,” she whispered, kissing his cheek.

“Morning.” Fitz turned his head to place a quick kiss against her temple, then turned back to the mugs.

Bobbi didn’t care about the food so much as she cared about touching Fitz. He hadn’t put his shirt back on, and it didn’t feel nearly as dangerous to explore his body with sunlight spilling in through the window. She traced her hands up the line of his stomach, surprised to find firm muscle under her fingers. Fitz didn’t look strong, but he obviously was. Bobbi kept moving until she could run her fingertips along the line of his pectorals, then his collarbones. When she slid her hands back down his body, she was almost tempted not to stop at the jut of his hip bones - but she did.

“Finished your inspection?” Fitz breathed.

“I might need to complete another one in the future, more thoroughly.” It was the closest Bobbi could come to promising things wouldn’t always be this way - the idea of having sex with Fitz wouldn’t always spook her. She wasn’t sure if Fitz heard all the layers in her words, but she didn’t care.

Fitz chuckled as he turned once again to kiss her - this time, a proper kiss on the mouth. Bobbi smiled against his lips, joy and peace swirling through her. She had actually managed to get something right, and she was going to have breakfast with the man she loved, and -

 _Oh_.

She loved him.

In hindsight it seemed obvious, but Bobbi hadn’t ever let herself think the word in relation to Fitz, even when he was so clear about how he felt about her. Which was silly, because he was everything she needed, everything she wanted, and more on top of that. Even with everything that had happened in the past two weeks, Bobbi still felt immensely lucky. She found not one, not two, but _three_ people who were perfect for her, and her only qualm was choosing the wrong one. Most people went through their whole lives never finding even one person like Fitz, like Hunter, like Jemma.

Maybe she’d never get Hunter back. Maybe she’d never get Jemma back. But she would still have Fitz. She would always have Fitz.

Some things were inevitable.

 _They_ were inevitable.

“Fitz?” she whispered, pressing her nose into his neck.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He stiffened in her arms, and Bobbi wondered if she had made a severe error in calculation. But then he turned around, crushing his lips against hers in the most fervent kiss they had ever shared. Bobbi couldn’t be bothered to think about how awful her mouth must’ve tasted, because Fitz tasted like tea and sunshine and he didn’t seem at all bothered by it. 

“I love you,” Fitz said when they broke apart.

“I love you,” Bobbi echoed.

“I love you.” A smile spread across his face, warm and radiant.

They went back and forth, trading the words until they didn’t sound like words anymore, just a crush of sounds and syllables. Bobbi leaned forward to press another kiss to Fitz’s mouth, happiness bubbling in her heart.

“Hey Fitz?”

“Hey Bobbi.”

“Would you like to be my boyfriend? Officially?”

“I would love to.” Fitz leaned his forehead against hers. “I know you said you were my girl, but… girlfriend?”

Bobbi laughed at the lameness of the question and the way Fitz winced immediately after asking it. Then she kept laughing, because Fitz was laughing too, and she couldn’t stop thinking about how right things were.

She was going to be okay.


	9. Chapter 9

Bobbi kept expecting to wake up and find reconciling with Fitz was all a dream. Even the days she woke up alone, though, she knew she hadn’t dreamed it. He had forgiven her. He loved her. He wanted to be with her despite all her messes.

A week later, though, the feeling still hadn’t subsided. Fitz had left early that morning for a shoot he was working on, leaving behind a scribbled note with what time he’d be back. Bobbi tucked the note into the pocket of her jeans. Fitz would come back, so saving the note was stupid… but it was also something Bobbi needed to do.

At nine o’clock on the dot, Bobbi’s phone began to ring. She accepted the FaceTime call with one hand while continuing to stir her eggs with the other.

“Good morning,” Piper sang.

“Morning.” Bobbi shoved the phone up into a corner so Piper was looking at her face (ish) instead of at the ceiling.

“Is the boy there?” Piper asked, peering at the screen as if she could somehow make Fitz appear by staring long enough.

“No, he’s off working. Don’t make a comment about how I’m fulfilling traditional gender roles, I know,” Bobbi said, holding up a finger as soon as Piper’s mouth opened. “And I kind of hate it but I also don’t really feel like going outside. Fitz said there’s still paparazzi at my place.”

“Haven’t they gotten the clue you’re not there?” Piper huffed.

“Apparently not.” Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Is the girl there?” Piper and her girlfriend weren’t cohabitating, and the most Bobbi had seen of Daisy was a flash of brunette hair, but one of the many things she had learned about Piper in the past week was her friend’s love for her girlfriend’s apartment. 

“Yeah, she’s getting ready. _Also_ going to work.” Piper snorted. “Can you believe we’re both with workaholics?”

“I don’t think going to work five days a week counts as a workaholic.”

“You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to.” Piper turned right as she finished talking, and there was a brief scuffle as she said goodbye to Daisy.

“How come she doesn’t want me to see her face?” Bobbi asked when the door had closed behind Daisy.

“Dunno. It’s not cuz she hates you or anything. Or at least, I don’t think so.”

“That’s _so_ comforting, Piper, thank you.”

“I’m your best friend, my job isn’t to comfort you. It’s to give you cold, hard facts.”

Bobbi paused in the middle of sliding her eggs onto her plate. Was Piper her best friend? The words immediately conjured an image of Jemma, but Jemma was… Jemma was Jemma and Bobbi had accepted her romantic feelings for the other woman, which meant their friendship was rocky at best. So yes, Piper could be her best friend, at least until things with Jemma got sorted.

“When do I get to return the favor?” Bobbi asked, carrying the phone over to Fitz’s kitchen table.

“Dude, I’ll punch you if you ever let my life get half as bad as yours.”

Bobbi laughed, surprised she was able to find humor in the situation so soon. Apparently talking about things actually did help with processing them - who’d have thought? “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Piper grinned. “So, no boy. What are your plans for your day of freedom?”

“There are some things around the apartment I want to do.” Bobbi shrugged. “Maybe reach out and see if I can find a new agent? I’m still on the fence.”

“What will you do if you don’t get back to modelling?”

“That’s the thing.” Bobbi shoved a forkful of eggs into her mouth so she had a moment to think. “I don’t really have any skills other than being pretty, so, like, what can I do?”

“I am _sure_ you have other skills. What did we say about negative self-talk?”

“We said you’re going to stop trying to be my therapist before you resent me or I throttle you for it,” Bobbi reminded her.

“Whatever. Either way, you shouldn’t keep doing this just because you think you have to.”

“Which is why I’m taking my time getting back into things. I’ll wait until August to make a final decision.”

“Babe,” Piper said. “It’s the twenty-eighth of July. You have three more days.”

All the color drained from Bobbi’s face. “It’s what?”

“July 28th,” Piper repeated, more slowly. “Bobbi? You okay?”

“I…” she felt like she was going to be sick. How had the day come so fucking quickly? “I gotta go, Piper, I’ll call you back, okay?” She didn’t wait for the answer before ending the call and slamming her phone down on the table.

_Deep breaths._

Even several deep breaths later, Bobbi didn’t have a handle on her panic.

July 28th.

The day she was supposed to have married Hunter.

If things had gone the way she had planned - if she hadn’t been an idiot, if he hadn’t broken up with her - at that very moment she would’ve been getting into her dress. She would’ve been surrounded by her friends and family, waiting to marry the man she loved, and…

Bobbi muffled her sob into her fist, hating the way the awful bubble in her chest popped. She had been doing so well, she had been so _happy_ , and then the world just had to go and knock her on her ass again.

She gasped in another breath, wondering what to do. Call Fitz?

Call _Hunter_?

She dismissed both thoughts as soon as they crossed her mind. Fitz was working, and she couldn’t turn him into a crutch. He was there to support her through her shit, not drag her through it. And Hunter… Hunter had ended things, but that didn’t mean he was _okay_. Asking him to make her feel better when he was struggling himself was just a bad thing to do - not to mention it would feel really fucking weird calling her ex for emotional support about their doomed wedding when she was in love with a different man.

She could always call Piper back, but she had a feeling Piper might be a little too harsh.

Jemma was another non-starter, which meant…

Bobbi was going to have to get through it alone.

She forced in another lungful of air, focusing on the rise and fall of her chest, the blood pounding in her ears. She was alive. She wasn’t getting married today, and parts of her were always going to regret that, but it wasn’t the end of the world. She was striking out on a different path, one without a clear ending, and she was going to have to be okay with that.

She _was_ okay with that. She loved Fitz even if she still loved Hunter, and she was excited to see where life with him took her, even if it didn’t take her down the aisle.

Bobbi didn’t feel like she was standing on the edge of a precipice anymore, but she didn’t feel safe, either. She wanted a sense of safety, a sense of grounding, and she knew exactly where she could get it.

When she returned to the apartment ten minutes later with Hunter’s jacket slung around her shoulders, Bobbi couldn’t ignore the guilt gnawing at the pit of her stomach, but it was still much better than the feeling she was one wrong move from (another) mental breakdown.

She had a series of text messages and a voice mail from Piper, ranging from nonchalant to concerned, and Bobbi owed it to Piper to respond.

_Would’ve gotten married today, if not for… you know. Didn’t realize it. Sorry for freaking out on you._

Bobbi paused, then sent another message. _I love you._

Maybe it was dumb, but Bobbi felt like the words had to be said. Her relationship with Piper was somehow the easiest and hardest thing in the world, and she wouldn’t have gotten through the past week without Piper’s constant presence. When Fitz wasn’t there, she had Piper. When Fitz _was_ there, she had Piper. This whole crazy week she had Piper, and she was worrying her friend, and that wasn’t okay.

Piper’s reply came back a few moments later: _I love you too. Be safe._

Bobbi wasn’t sure what _be safe_ was supposed to mean, but she didn’t have the mental energy to devote to puzzling it out. With Hunter’s jacket on, Fitz’s note in her pocket, and Piper’s words burrowing into her heart, Bobbi finally felt ready to tackle some of her to-do list.

\---

“I’m home!” Fitz called as the apartment door shut behind him. “They didn’t have any of those salt and pepper crisps you liked so I got the weirdest sounding flavor instead.”

“Chips, dear,” Bobbi said with a fond smile. Fitz’s insistence on continuing to call them crisps was cute. He insisted it was a way to stay connected to his heritage, but Bobbi thought he more enjoyed how she smiled every time he said it. “And why did you think the weirdest flavor was an acceptable alternative?”

“Because I don’t understand why you think salt and pepper crisps sound good to eat,” Fitz answered, setting the bags of groceries on the table. Bobbi moved to help him unpack them.

“You’ve never tried them, or you’d be a convert.”

“Doubtful. And I eat a lot of strange things.”

“I know.” Living together for only a week had enlightened Bobbi to many of Fitz’s strange eating habits - including his love for haggis. Bobbi thought the food was a Scottish stereotype, but Fitz ate it like it was candy.

“I know you do.” 

They put the rest of the groceries away together in silence, and Bobbi was about to ask what Fitz wanted for dinner when he asked her a question instead.

“That’s a nice jacket. Where’d you get it?”

Bobbi opened her mouth to answer, but before she did, she looked Fitz in the face - and realized he already knew.

“Are you angry?”

“No.” Fitz ran his hand through his hair. “There’s actually something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about… since you came back, really.”

The anxiety Bobbi had spent the entire day trying to ignore came barrelling back full force. _We need to talk_ had never been a phrase she was fond of, and in conjunction with what she had admitted - or rather, what she hadn’t needed to admit - she wasn’t optimistic this conversation was going to go her way.

“Come sit.” He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and gestured her into it before sitting at the other chair himself.

“Hunter still loves you.”

Whatever Bobbi had expected, it was not that.

“No he doesn’t.” It was easier to deny, deny, deny - if he didn’t love her, it made sense why he had walked away. If he didn’t love her, it made sense why they weren’t together now. If he didn’t love her, it made _sense_.

“I think you know that’s not true, but you don’t want to admit it.”

Bobbi wouldn’t look Fitz in the eye.

“I’m not mad at you,” Fitz whispered.

“You should be!” Bobbi snapped. “I promised you _a week ago_ that I was yours and now I’m back to being - being me and you should be mad that I can’t be _normal_!”

“Hey.” Fitz reached for her hand but Bobbi recoiled before he could touch her. “I didn’t ask you to be normal. I asked you to be Bobbi, because I quite like her.” Fitz’s hand returned to his lap when he realized she wouldn’t be taking it any time soon.

He cleared his throat before continuing. “I accepted your apology, and I know if you offered them, Hunter and Jemma would too.”

Bobbi froze. When had Jemma entered the conversation?

“I’ve been talking to them,” Fitz said gently. “And they’re worried about you.”

Tears stung at Bobbi’s eyes. “You talked to them about me behind my back?”

“They just wanted to know if you were safe. Jemma went to your apartment to check on you and had quite the fright when you weren’t there.”

“She could’ve called me!”

“She could’ve,” Fitz agreed, “but she was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

There was no accusation in his voice but Bobbi couldn’t help but be defensive. It wasn’t her fault Jemma thought she wouldn’t answer - Jemma hadn’t said anything, hadn’t done anything, after their disastrous kiss, and Bobbi had rightfully assumed kissing her best friend _wasn’t okay_.

“Still with me?”

Bobbi bit her lip but nodded.

“I know this has been hard for you, and I don’t want you to think I’m asking you to do anything you’re not ready for,” Fitz continued, voice still soft and soothing, like she was a wounded animal and not a human being - not his girlfriend. “But Hunter and Jemma really want to talk to you. And I’d really like for you to talk to them, too.”

“Why?” Bobbi choked out. She didn’t understand why her boyfriend wanted her to talk to her ex and the girl she kissed. Had she even told Fitz she’d kissed Jemma? Bobbi couldn’t remember and now probably wasn’t the time to bring it up.

“You seem to have it in your head you can only have one of us,” Fitz whispered. “But the three of us are beginning to think… maybe that’s not true.”

The three of us. Bobbi’s head swum trying to make it make sense. From the way Fitz was talking, he and Jemma and Hunter had been talking about her far beyond just worry for her safety after the news with Grant broke. If the four of them did get to talking, Bobbi was going to let them all know on no uncertain terms their behavior was unacceptable. She was sick and tired of people moving her around like a pawn on their chessboard, making choices for her and expecting her to deal with the consequences, her feelings be damned.

Yes, she trusted Fitz and Jemma and Hunter more than she trusted her ex-agent, and definitely more than she trusted Grant Ward, but she wasn’t going to let them make decisions about her life without her input.

“Tell me what you’re saying, Fitz.” Today had already been tiring enough without trying to pick her way through what Fitz was hedging at but not saying outright.

“I love you. And I wouldn’t say that Hunter loves you without his permission. And Jemma… I won’t speak for her because I think there’s a lot you two need to work out, but Jemma has _never_ stopped caring about you, even when you thought she had.” Fitz reached out again, this time to tip her chin up so Bobbi had no choice but to look him in the eyes for what he said next. “There is nothing more important in the world to the three of us than making you happy. And when we’ve been talking, it kind of seems like… the three of us could make you happy together.”

Fitz didn’t move to brush away the tear tracking down her cheek, so Bobbi didn’t bother with it, either. She kept staring at Fitz, kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for some catch to appear. But Fitz didn’t say anything more, just kept blinking at her, like he was waiting for her to talk instead.

“I… I don’t understand how they can think that when I haven’t even apologized to them.” After everything she had done to them, how could Hunter and Jemma’s first goal in life still be to make her happy?

“I forgave you long before you apologized, too. As soon as I got home and calmed down, really,” Fitz said. “You are… incredibly easy to love, Bobbi. And you make bad choices but you’re not a bad _person_ , and all three of us can see the difference. More people can too, I’d bet.”

Like Piper.

What would Piper do? The question was helpful in helping Bobbi determine her next steps. She wasn’t going to call Piper up and ask her, but Bobbi had learned enough about her friend to know at least the first thing to do.

Piper would tell her to start with the apology - none of the ‘we’ve already forgiven you’ stuff, because even if they _had_ forgiven her, they still deserved to hear her apology, and she still deserved to say it.

But like with Fitz, they weren’t apologies Bobbi could make through text or over the phone.

Could she do this tonight?

It was a question Bobbi had to consider for longer than she’d have liked. If she didn’t do this tonight, it was going to haunt her for the entire day tomorrow. But she was so _tired_ , and…

And this was her first step to not being tired any more.

Bobbi silently wiped at her cheeks, then swallowed hard.

“Call them. Please. And, um, ask them to come over.” She closed her eyes and rephrased what she had just said. “Tell them I want them to come over.” Because she did. She wanted Hunter and Jemma here, too - she wanted to figure out whatever the three of them had already started figuring out between them.

“Okay,” Fitz said softly. “Do you want to have dinner first?”

Bobbi shook her head. “I can’t eat.” A wave of nausea rolled through her in obvious agreement with her choice - and besides, doing anything other than just sitting and waiting for Jemma and Hunter to arrive sounded exhausting.

“Okay,” Fitz repeated. “Can I promise you something, Bobbi?”

She looked at him warily before giving a curt nod.

“No matter what happens, it’s me and you, okay?” He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the center of her forehead. “Me and you against the world.”

Bobbi tipped her chin back in a silent invitation for a less-chaste kiss, and Fitz obliged her easily.

He exited the kitchen to make the call, and Bobbi let him go. She found the slip of paper she had stuffed in her pocket that morning, running her thumb over the tiny indents in the paper Fitz had made by pushing too hard with the pen.

Fitz didn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. He wouldn’t have promised her he would stay if he didn’t mean it.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time someone knocked on the front door, Bobbi had managed to think of at least a hundred reasons why her decision was a mistake. Fitz brushed a hand against the small of her back when he passed her to open the door, but even the casual touch did nothing to calm her nerves.

Hunter and Jemma were holding hands when they stepped into Fitz’s apartment, and Bobbi’s heart jumped into her throat before plunging to her toes.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” Jemma answered, not meeting Bobbi’s eyes. Bobbi watched as Hunter’s fingers tightened around Jemma’s hand, saw Jemma’s muscles tense as she squeezed back in return. Fitz had retreated to her side but didn’t reach for her, for which Bobbi was grateful. She needed to stand on her own.

“Would you two like anything to drink?” Bobbi asked, clearing her throat uncomfortably. Fitz had said Hunter and Jemma wanted to talk, but they didn’t look the least bit comfortable in being there.

“I’m fine,” Hunter said at the same time Jemma shook her head.

“We should go to the kitchen either way,” Fitz said, voice light but commanding. “To talk.”

“I, actually, um… Jemma, can we…?” Bobbi mumbled. She needed to make her personal apologies before she started in on the four of them talking together.

“Yes.” Jemma released Hunter’s hand, then nudged him forward to follow after Fitz into the kitchen.

Bobbi took a step towards Jemma, but still left a healthy amount of distance between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Bobbi said. This time she was the one avoiding Jemma’s gaze, the weight of her guilt pressing down on her. “I shouldn’t have lied to you. And I didn’t have any right to get angry about you and Hunter, and… I shouldn’t have kissed you. I keep trying to figure myself out but I shouldn’t have kissed you without your permission.” Bobbi sniffed. “I… I care about you a lot but that doesn’t make me - this - your responsibility, and I’m sorry that I keep dragging you into my messes.”

“Did you mean what you said?” Jemma asked. “About loving me?”

“Of course I meant it.” Bobbi’s voice cracked. “I don’t want to lie to you anymore.”

“Then I know everything I need to know,” Jemma declared. “Thank you.” She brushed past Bobbi, heading towards the kitchen.

“Jem -”

“Talk to Hunter.” Their eyes met for the first time since Jemma had appeared in the apartment, and Bobbi swallowed past the lump in her throat when a tear dripped down Jemma’s cheek.

Jemma disappeared into the kitchen and Hunter emerged in her place.

Bobbi didn’t think she had the strength for this. Apologizing to Piper and Fitz and Jemma had been hard enough, and they hadn’t been hurt so long or in so many ways as she had hurt Hunter.

She had hurt him enough to make him walk away - but apparently not enough so he would never come back.

Unlike Jemma, Hunter wasn’t afraid to close the space between them. When he approached he didn’t stop until he was so close Bobbi could smell his cologne, and see the flecks of green and gold in his hazel eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She tried to say more, but listing out her sins felt like too much, especially with Jemma’s lack of acceptance still sitting thick in the air.

“I forgive you,” he said simply.

“But I -”

“I forgive you,” Hunter repeated, reaching for her hand. Their fingers twined together and the familiarity of it almost brought Bobbi to her knees.

“I had a speech,” Bobbi said scratchily.

“And I don’t need a speech. Or an apology.” He squeezed her hand. “I forgave you a long time ago, Bob. I had to, to move on. Er, kind of move on.” He ducked his head. “I dunno, love. It’s always going to be me and you, somehow. I don’t know how this conversation between us four is going to go, but no matter how it does… I don’t want to go another year without seeing you. I barely survived it the first time.”

Bobbi didn’t answer, instead pulling Hunter into a tight hug. She didn’t know what to hope for - didn’t even know if she deserved to have hope after everything she had done - but Fitz seemed to think there was a future for the four of them, together. He had been right about Hunter forgiving her, so maybe Fitz would be right one more time. And even if he wasn’t, she needed Hunter in her life.

Bobbi had never wanted to need anyone. 

“It’s gonna be okay,” Hunter whispered into her hair, rubbing circles between her shoulder blades. If he recognized the familiar fabric of his jacket beneath his palm, he didn’t say. “No matter what happens, we’re going to be okay.”

 _I don’t deserve this_ , Bobbi wanted to say.

“I love you,” she said instead, tears once again falling.

“I love you too.” Hunter kissed the side of her head gently. “And I’m always going to love you, understand?”

Bobbi nodded, smearing her tears on the front of Hunter’s shirt.

He kissed her temple again. “Do you want Fitz?”

Bobbi shook her head. Jemma. She wanted Jemma.

Hunter didn’t ask her if she wanted Jemma, though, so Bobbi kept clinging to him as he soothed her. 

When her breathing had steadied and her eyes were dry, Hunter released her. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Bobbi sighed.

When they returned to the kitchen, Bobbi found she wasn’t the only one with puffy eyes. Jemma and Fitz both were red-faced and still wiping at their cheeks. Bobbi slid into the chair next to Fitz’s at the kitchen table, offering her hand silently to him. Fitz took it gingerly, like he was afraid she was going to snatch it away.

For a long minute, they all stared at each other across the table. Bobbi didn’t know where to start, and she doubted anyone else was any better off.

Hunter broke the silence. “I think we can all agree the three of us are in love with Bobbi.”

She knew Fitz would nod, but the confidence with which Jemma joined him startled her.

“You’re not the only one who had a childhood crush,” Jemma said weakly when she noticed Bobbi’s stare.

“Why didn’t you say so? Just now?” Bobbi could understand Jemma hiding it when they were kids, and even when they found each other again in the city, but Jemma hadn’t said _anything_ when they were in the entryway together.

“I didn’t want to tell you if this wasn’t going to work.” Jemma swiped at her eyes again. “It would’ve hurt you too much.”

“I thought you didn’t want me,” Bobbi whispered.

“No, I… I do.” Jemma cleared her throat. “We can talk more later. Alone.”

If the boys were perturbed by that declaration, they didn’t show it.

“I guess this goes without saying, but I love you all, too.” Bobbi ducked her head, embarrassed.

“And you and I both love Jemma as well,” Hunter said, making eye contact with Fitz.

He nodded.

“So it seems like if we can agree on things, we can make the women we love happy.”

Fitz sucked in a breath loud enough for Bobbi to hear. “And what about between us?”

Hunter tilted his head to the side. “Between us?”

“I’m bisexual. I thought you were too based on how much time you spent pretending not to look at my arse.”

Jemma flashed an amused smile at Bobbi, almost fast enough that Bobbi missed it while watching the blush spread across Hunter’s cheeks.

“I didn’t want to presume,” Hunter said, scratching at the back of his neck. “But I never have been good at saying no to pretty boys.”

It was Fitz’s turn to blush, then, and Jemma and Bobbi were stuck hiding their laughter. 

With the agreement, Bobbi realized, they made a perfect square. Everyone in love with everyone else - or at least trying to get there. The improbability of it all struck her like lightning, sudden and hot and thrilling. The world had finally decided to stop conspiring against her - or perhaps (and she liked this idea better), she had finally figured out a way to get the world to bend to her whim.

“This has the potential to get very messy,” Jemma warned, ever the realist. “We need rules.”

“No sex,” Bobbi blurted. “At least, for me.”

Hunter stared at her like she had grown a second head. Jemma seemed more confused than shocked. Fitz, of course, was already aware of that limitation of hers and just squeezed her hand gently.

“Grant, um…” Bobbi’s lower lip started trembling, so she stopped herself from speaking before she could cry again. Even those two words had an effect on Hunter and Jemma, though, their faces morphed into masks of understanding. Hunter was obviously trying to hide his anger, but his hand was clenching and unclenching on the tabletop. 

“Of course,” Jemma said. “Other rules?”

“We can do what we want, with who we want,” Bobbi stated firmly. “No one has to ask anyone for permission.”

A round of nods.

“Can we make it a rule we all sleep together? Literally sleep together, I mean,” Fitz asked timidly. “If we’re all in the same place.”

“Can I ask why?” Jemma said.

“It’s… a trust thing,” Fitz answered, squirming awkwardly. “Um, just a way to build trust. By being vulnerable together.”

“Can exemptions be granted?” Jemma pressed.

“Under what circumstances?”

“Illness. Emotional fatigue. I’m sure there are other situations where it wouldn’t be beneficial.”

Fitz shrugged. “I can accept that.”

Bobbi’s stomach gurgled.

“Rule: everyone has to eat when they’re hungry,” Hunter declared.

“I’m not -”

“Rule: don’t lie,” Jemma interrupted.

“Rule: don’t gang up on Bobbi,” she muttered under her breath.

“We only do it because we love you,” Hunter said breezily.

That was never going to get old.

“I’ll order some pizzas,” Fitz declared. “Meeting temporarily adjourned.”

Bobbi found herself being tugged into the living room, where she ended up wedged between Hunter and Jemma on the sofa.

She prodded Jemma on the shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Wanna kiss?”

Hunter snorted at her phrasing, but Jemma leaned forward and pressed their lips together. There was something oddly familiar about the taste of Jemma’s mouth, Bobbi thought as she swiped her tongue through it. Familiar not from the one time they had kissed each other before, but…

_Tea and sunshine._

Jemma tasted like Fitz. Or maybe Fitz tasted like Jemma? She didn’t care, because it was one of her favorite flavors. There were subtle differences between the two, Bobbi was sure, and she was going to spend an awful long time figuring out exactly what those were.

Jemma’s palm stayed resting on Bobbi’s cheek even when the kiss had ended, and Bobbi smiled goofily at her before turning to place a quick peck against Jemma’s palm.

Bobbi couldn’t believe this was real - but Hunter’s body was solid against hers, and Bobbi knew its every curve. If this was a fantasy, it was the most realistic one she had ever had. 

“You want a turn?” Bobbi teased, turning to face Hunter.

“I’d be a fool to deny a beautiful lady a kiss.”

His mouth slanted across hers, and it took Bobbi a moment to remember the reason he was so good at kissing her was because he’d done it thousands of times before. Somehow, though, this still felt like the first time. Hunter was more timid than usual, more careful. Even when Bobbi tried to coax him into something more heated, he hung back. It was different, but Bobbi would be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it.

“So,” Hunter drawled, “who’s the better kisser?”

Jemma reached across Bobbi to whack Hunter’s shoulder, scandalized laugh filling the air.

“I need more kisses to be sure of that answer.”

“Gladly.”

“Not from you,” Bobbi teased, shoving Hunter’s face away when he swooped back in. “I’ve kissed you _more_ than enough times.”

Hunter stuck his lower lip out in a pout, and Bobbi took the opportunity to suck it into her mouth, nibbling lightly. “Or maybe I haven’t,” she said against his mouth.

“Definitely not. I didn’t do it right before,” Hunter breathed.

“I wasn’t complaining.”

Jemma sighed happily behind Bobbi, and she turned to look at her… girlfriend? Bobbi liked that word.

“You two belong together.”

“ _You_ two belong together,” Hunter rejoined.

“Maybe _you_ two do,” Bobbi added.

They all burst into laughter a moment later. 

“Let’s not forget about Fitz!” Jemma said

“Oh, Bob and Fitz _definitely_ belong together.”

“And ickle Hunter has a wittle crush,” Bobbi said, reaching out to pinch Hunter’s cheeks.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell him I was bi,” Hunter grumbled.

“How would that even come up!? Jemma should’ve told you _Fitz_ was bi, she’s his best friend!”

“What about me?” The man in question walked in and climbed over the back of the couch to squeeze in next to Jemma.

“Hunter’s mad you never learned he was bi,” Jemma supplied. 

“Yeah, that might’ve made this simpler,” Fitz sighed. He kissed Jemma’s cheek softly. “But it all turned out alright in the end.”

“It’s not over yet,” Bobbi said, slumping down against Hunter. “I’m still unemployed and agentless and I doubt _this_ is going to go over well with the media…”

“Let me handle the media,” Jemma said, waving her hand. 

“Nuh uh.” Bobbi didn’t have the energy to shake her head, but letting Jemma get dragged into her publicity mess was _not_ happening. “You’re their golden girl, you can’t go walking around with a slu -”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Jemma snapped. “I’ll go walking around with whoever I want, thank you very much.” She sniffed, looking every bit the imperious little girl Bobbi had fallen in love with all those years ago. “And if I happen to make a few comments about how awful it is that we condemn women for trusting men with their bodies instead of men for breaking that trust…”

“She’s quite feisty when she wants to be,” Hunter whispered.

“Yeah, I’m remembering,” Bobbi grumbled back. She needed to get used to not being the most stubborn one in her relationship, somehow.

Her stomach grumbled unhappily again.

“Hush,” Hunter commanded, sliding his hand over her stomach. 

“I can’t help it!”

“I know.” Hunter began tracing lazy circles on her skin with his thumb, and Bobbi sighed, sinking further into him. 

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Hunter pulled Bobbi onto his lap, glancing over to Jemma and Fitz to make sure they didn’t have any objections.

“No asking for permission,” Bobbi reminded him.

“I don’t want to be a prick about it.”

“They have shit to figure out, too.” Bobbi figured their newly-minted partners wouldn’t be upset about the two of them having a one-on-one conversation, if only because the others needed to have one (or a hundred) as well. 

They were just beginning the long slog to being stable again, even if this was remarkable progress from where they’d been an hour ago.

“I don’t want to figure anything out right now,” Hunter said, pausing his circles for a moment. “Is that okay?”

“Honestly, if someone asks me to have another emotion tonight, I might combust.” Bobbi adjusted her positioning on Hunter’s lap so she could settle her ear over his breastbone. It left her contorted in an odd shape, but she liked the warmth of Hunter’s chest and the steady thud of his heart under her ear.

“I mean, you’re already pretty hot…”

“Hunter!” she laughed.

“Sorry, sorry.” He didn’t sound apologetic at all. “I suppose I should mention the no-sex thing is going to be weird for me.”

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut. “Yeah?”

“Hey, don’t go looking scared about it,” Hunter chided. “I’m not going to ditch you. I need you, yada yada… I just thought a little bit of honesty might help.”

“Thank you for telling me.”

She still didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to see him pity her.

“Bob, look at me.”

She sighed before obeying reluctantly.

When she met Hunter’s gaze, there was none of the pity she feared. The closest she could discern was concern, or maybe a little sadness. But he didn’t pity her.

“No one is ever going to hurt you like that again. I don’t care how long it takes you to believe it, but I… _we_ would rather die than hurt you.”

“I never thought it was you.”

“Thank you, but…”

“But?”

“But I have a lot of feelings about what happened to you. And I think I’m going to need time to deal with them, too. So I’m glad you have your rule, even if it’s going to be different and hard.”

“Do you want to… talk about it?” she asked uncertainly.

“I’d feel bad putting that on you.” Hunter kissed her forehead. “Fitz said he’s willing to listen, so I’ll probably talk to him.”

“If I was your wife, would you tell me?”

Hunter’s breath rattled in his chest, and Bobbi almost regretted the question. Almost. They hadn’t mentioned it before, that this was supposed to be their wedding day, but it felt wrong to keep ignoring it..

“If you were my wife, you never would have dated Grant in the first place. Which is… which is what I’m angry about,” Hunter said slowly. “If I hadn’t broken up with you, you never would have sent that tosser those pictures, and you wouldn’t be hurting now.”

“That’s not your fault.”

“But it is,” Hunter whispered. “It is. And I… you were my everything, Bob. And so much of you is still all over me and part of why the sex thing is going to be hard is because I want to be all over you, too. And I don’t even know if that makes sense -”

“It does,” Bobbi interrupted. “And you are all over me. Even without anything else.” She cleared her throat. “Or have you already forgotten about the jacket?”

“No, I…” Hunter sighed as he dragged his thumb along the shoulder seam of the jacket she was still wearing. “I just want you to know I never stopped wanting to marry you. And I wasn’t going to bring it up because I didn’t know if you still felt the same -”

“Hunter.” She felt bad for cutting him off again, but he looked so _sad_ and she knew how to make it better. “One day, you’re going to be my husband. You just have to be okay with probably not being my only husband.”

“I can accept that.” Hunter smiled.

The doorbell rang, startling Bobbi. Fitz extracted himself from Jemma so he could get the pizza. How the delivery driver had made it so quickly, Bobbi would never know, but she didn’t care the moment Fitz set the pizza box on the coffee table.

“I was thinking,” Jemma said as she tucked into her second slice of pizza.

“Oh no,” Fitz breathed.

“Hush,” Jemma said, waving her pizza slice in his general direction. “Anyways, I was thinking, Bobbi. What about that job you said no to?”

“Huh?”

“It was, um…” Jemma looked upwards as if trying to recall what Bobbi had said. “Some love your body campaign?”

Oh. That one. Bobbi couldn’t remember telling Jemma about it, but it had been on her mind the night they met in the desert…

“But I said no to them.”

“But you’d also be _perfect_ for it. Something about loving your body after -”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s publicity piece,” Bobbi said coldly.

“She didn’t mean it like that, love,” Hunter interjected. “You know that.”

Bobbi focused on her pizza instead of on Hunter’s face. He was right, of course. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jemma said softly. “I didn’t mean to make you think… You’re right. It was wrong to bring it up.”

“Thanks.” Bobbi sighed. “You’re probably right about that being my best chance, though. The woman heading the campaign seemed very… well, she seemed different.” At the time, Bobbi had thought different was the worst thing someone could be in the modelling industry. At the time, she had thought a lot of things she was ashamed of.

They finished eating their pizza in relative silence, and attempted to have another conversation about rules in their fledgling relationship that mostly devolved into flirting and more flirting. Bobbi was pleasantly surprised by how often Jemma made both of the boys blush. She’d thought she was the only one weak to Jemma’s ridiculously dorky charm, but it wasn’t so.

When it came time when Hunter and Jemma really should have been leaving, all Bobbi knew was she didn’t want them to go. As soon as they walked out the door she’d be second-guessing everything. When she woke up in the morning her brain would convince her tonight was all a dream, a fantasy she had made up to give herself some respite from the awfulness of the world.

It _was_ real. It was.

“Stay,” Fitz whispered into the now-darkness of the living room. They hadn’t bothered turning on any lights, only the dim glow from the kitchen keeping them company.

Bobbi could have cried in relief when neither Hunter nor Jemma protested.

“We aren’t going to leave you,” Jemma murmured into her shoulder, as if she had read Bobbi’s mind.

“You have to eventually.” Bobbi was trying to be pragmatic, trying to recognize that she couldn’t force three other lives to be built around hers, trying to remind Jemma not to make promises she couldn’t keep.

“Not tonight,” Jemma answered, sliding her lips up the slope of Bobbi’s shoulder and the column of her neck until their mouths were pressed together.

Honey. Jemma tasted like tea with honey, and Fitz tasted like tea with sugar. That was one of the differences between then.

Jemma tasted like sunshine at sunset - a farewell waiting on the tip of her tongue, but a beautiful one. Fitz tasted like sunshine at sunrise - fresh and awake and new and maybe a bit naive. That was another difference.

Bobbi wanted to learn more. She wanted to learn more of the differences between Fitz and Jemma, but she also wanted to learn Jemma’s mouth in intimate detail. She wanted to know the ways to make Jemma sigh and squirm. Every kiss made her hungry for the next one, another reminder of who she was and where she belonged - who she belonged with.

“We should go to sleep,” Jemma said against Bobbi’s lips. They had been kissing for a long while - everything was even dimmer, the hum of the city droning quieter and quieter as more people went to bed. 

Fitz led the way to the bedroom, his fingers linked through Hunter’s. Bobbi hadn’t been paying attention to what they were doing when she and Jemma were… making out? That felt like too strong of a word, but kissing simply didn’t cover the intimacy of what they had been doing together. Either way, she hadn’t been paying attention to the boys, but however they had chosen to pass the time must’ve been productive, too.

The bed wasn’t big enough for four.

“I’ll take the floor,” Bobbi siad.

“I’ll sleep with you.” 

Jemma was taking the ‘not leaving’ thing a bit seriously, but Bobbi didn’t mind. Fitz shoved a pile of blankets onto the floor for them to make a nest out of - the boys wouldn’t need them anyways, given the heat of the night. The blankets were quickly followed by all of the pillows on the bed, save one.

“I can use him instead,” Fitz explained when Bobbi tried to hand another back.

She rolled her eyes but didn’t object.

She and Jemma curled up on the floor together, but it still felt… a little off.

A moment later Hunter draped his hand over the side of the bed, and Bobbi smiled to herself as she took it.

Between Jemma curled beside her and Hunter’s hand on hers, it didn’t even matter that Bobbi was on the floor - it was her best rest in years.


	11. Chapter 11

“Time to get up.” She couldn’t tell who was speaking through the haze and how the pillow over her head muffled the sound, but Bobbi’s response would be the same no matter who was trying to coax her awake.

“No it’s not.” 

“Yes it is.”

“Nuh uh.”

“What if I promise to make you coffee?”

“I don’t know who this is, but I don’t trust any of you to make me coffee.”

“Harsh, Bob.”

Ah, so it was Hunter. Bobbi poked her head out from under the pillow, and found Hunter was asking her to wake up so he wouldn’t step on her getting out of bed - which she had to admit was a pretty good reason to wake her up.

“You’re no good at coffee,” she said, but she forced herself to sit up regardless. Jemma, who was still tucked safely into her side, grumbled with displeasure.

“The boys are awake,” Bobbi said, poking Jemma’s shoulder. “Hunter wants to get out of bed.”

“I think this is the first time he’s asked me to get out of bed instead of into one,” Jemma mumbled. Bobbi snorted.

“I’m getting up or else he’ll squish me.”

“Oi! I’ve been on top of you before!”

“Not nearly as often as you’d like,” Bobbi smirked. Then, she froze. She was joking. About sex. She swallowed hard, cheeks hot, before scrambling to standing. 

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said as he stepped out of bed to stand beside her. “Is innuendo not okay?”

“I - I don’t know.” She didn’t feel _bad_ , exactly. It wasn’t the act of sex that was bothersome for her - it was the idea of being naked in front of someone that made her gut squirm uncomfortably. 

“No innuendo then.” Hunter pecked her cheek. “C’mon. I owe you some coffee.”

“I don’t want your coffee,” Bobbi huffed, but she followed him to the kitchen anyways. Jemma shuffled close behind, bleary-eyed. Bobbi paused so she could wrap her arm around Jemma’s shoulders.

“Sleep well?”

Jemma shook her head. “I would prefer not to sleep on the floor again.”

“We can push the boys out of bed,” Bobbi promised her.

“Or we could find a bigger bed,” Jemma said, pressing her nose against Bobbi’s shoulder. “Though I don’t know if there are any beds big enough for four.”

Bobbi sighed. “I can think of one.”

Jemma withdrew from Bobbi’s shoulder. “You can?”

“Mine.”

Jemma cocked her head to the side. “You don’t sound excited.”

“I’ve been staying with Fitz since…” Bobbi waved her hand. They had jumped straight from not-together to living together, which had been strange but not unwelcome. She was kind of hoping Hunter and Jemma would also want to live with her and Fitz. Living alone hadn’t suited Bobbi, and getting to spend her free time with her three favorite people… that sounded nice.

“There were paps at her place the last time we went to check up,” Hunter added from his place at the stove. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to go back, love.”

“Speaking of going to check up on me,” Bobbi said, sitting at the kitchen table and arranging Jemma across her lap, “we are going to have some words about you two talking to Fitz instead of me, _about me_.”

“We -” Jemma began.

“I know why you did it. But that doesn’t mean the three of you have any right to go setting things up behind my back without telling me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jemma said after a long pause. “I just want to take care of you.”

“Hunter should’ve told you by now I’m awful at accepting other people's caring.”

“I was hoping you’d changed,” Hunter said. He set two mugs in front of them, one of tea and one of coffee.

“Where’s Fitz?” Jemma asked as she sipped at her tea.

“Shower,” Hunter answered, plopping into the chair next to Bobbi’s. 

“That’s not getting you out of my scolding!”

“Isn’t it more efficient to scold us all together?” Jemma’s voice was hopeful.

“I don’t care about efficiency. I care about effectiveness. So, just to reiterate: I do not like being manipulated. I do not like _feeling_ like I am being manipulated, even if the intentions are pure. I definitely do not like the people I love ganging up on me, even if it’s for my own good. I deserve to have a voice in my own life. Are we understood?”

“Yes ma’am,” Jemma said, dipping her head like a chastised child.

“We really are sorry, Bob,” Hunter said earnestly. “I know you don’t want to hear excuses but… we care about you so much that it can be difficult sometimes to see where caring becomes controlling.”

“I know, which is why I’m not way more angry about this.” Bobbi met Hunter’s eyes. “You promised me you’d never hurt me like Grant did. But the reason what he did hurt was because he took away my control.” Her control over her image, yes, but also her control over her body. Bobbi would never again have a say in who got to see her naked or not, and it still hurt. It still made her feel ill. Time and having the people she loved beside her were making things easier, but she doubted she would ever be the same again, and that sucked.

“I’m sorry,” Hunter repeated. His hazel eyes softened when he looked at her. “I can’t change what we did. But I’m going to keep my promise.”

“So am I,” Jemma added. “And so is Fitz.”

“I know.” Bobbi’s shoulders sagged, releasing tension she didn’t realize she was holding. “I should have probably talked about it last night, but…”

“Last night was overwhelming for all of us,” Jemma assured her. “I think we all understand the negotiations are never really going to end. And if this is a hard line for you, we’re not going to cross it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Jemma answered. “Now, drink your coffee.”

\---

The outside world was scary and strange, and Bobbi wanted very much to go back inside. The four of them had decided to relocate to her apartment purely for her stupid-huge bed and the desire to sleep together, but Bobbi didn’t particularly want to, if only because that meant leaving Fitz’s apartment. The short walk down to her car wasn’t bad, but as soon as she and Fitz began the walk from her complex’s parking lot to the front door, they were set upon by paparazzi. There weren’t many, maybe a half dozen, but it was still more than enough to be overwhelming.

Fitz squeezed her hand comfortingly, ducked his head, and pushed through the small throng. Bobbi followed his example, letting her hair fall in front of her face as she clung to Fitz like a lifeline. He led her through the front door of the complex, up the stairs, and didn’t stop until they were safe behind a locked door.

“Okay?” he asked when she leaned against the door, head in her hands.

Bobbi nodded. She hadn’t heard anything the paparazzi were saying, hadn’t processed anything other than their presence and the constant flashing of the lights, but it was unsettling. They knew where she lived and they didn’t seem to care about her privacy. At least they were overt about it, and not taking photos of her from across the street like before.

“Hunter and Jemma should be here any minute,” Fitz said, running a hand up and down her upper arm soothingly. “Anything you want to do before they get here?”

Bobbi shook her head. Hunter and Jemma had left earlier to grab some things from their respective apartments - clothing, mostly, though Hunter had mentioned bringing over groceries as well - and she was more concerned with them arriving back safely than she was tidying her place. It looked oddly lived-in despite it having been nearly two weeks since Bobbi had last been there, bits and bobs set on various surfaces like they were waiting to be picked up at any minute.

“Come on,” Fitz said, pulling her gently away from the door. “Show me around, would you?”

Fitz let out a low whistle when Bobbi led him into her bedroom. “You weren’t kidding about the bed.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Can I?” Fitz asked, gesturing towards it. Bobbi nodded and Fitz threw himself onto the bed face down, spreading his arms and legs like a starfish. He still didn’t touch either side of the bed even with his full wingspan.

“I’ve been thinking about sex,” Bobbi blurted.

Fitz looked up. “Huh?”

“I… Hunter said something this morning and I realized I still - I still _want_ to have sex. With the three of you. But right now I’m more afraid than anything, and, uh…” She cleared her throat, the tips of her ears burning. “I just wanted to tell you.”

Fitz rolled over onto his back, patting the bed beside him. Bobbi stretched out, careful not to get too close to Fitz.

“You know we’ll wait as long as you need, right?”

“I don’t… I don’t like feeling like everything we’re doing is about me.” Bobbi sighed. “And I wish I knew why I felt the way I did, because I know none of you would take advantage of me. I know you didn’t see the pictures, and Hunter’s seen me naked like a billion times anyways, and Jemma…”

“Is Jemma the problem?” Fitz prompted when a few moments passed and she still hadn’t finished her sentence.

“You think I need to get naked in front of Jemma?” 

“I don’t think you need to do anything,” Fitz said. “But I want you to be able to do what you want, and if that’s what you need to do to get past the pictures, I’m here to support you.”

Bobbi sighed. “It might be worth a try.”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” He and Hunter and Jemma had only said the same phrase a few hundred times to her in the last twenty-four hours.

The front door of the apartment opened - Bobbi had given Hunter her spare key - and the pair rolled out of the bed to greet Hunter and Jemma at the door.

“Hey, loves,” Hunter said as he kicked off his shoes. He swooped in to kiss Fitz on the cheek and Bobbi on the mouth before puttering over to the kitchen with his bags of groceries.

“Did you two see anyone outside?” Bobbi asked, brow furrowing. As much as Jemma insisted she could handle it, Bobbi didn’t want her getting caught up in the mess.

“Yes, but we’re fine.” Jemma stood on her tiptoes to kiss Bobbi’s cheek. “You worry too much.”

“I do,” Bobbi admitted. “Come on, let’s find a place for your stuff.” Jemma had a suitcase at her feet filled with enough clothes for at least another week. Hunter’s clothes were probably in there, too, though Bobbi had random pieces of his clothing buried in the back of her dresser, too. Either way it warmed her to see her hopes of spending more time with her people realized.

“Are you my girlfriend?” Bobbi asked suddenly when she led Jemma to the bedroom, Piper’s warning about defining relationships echoing in her head.

“I rather thought so.” Jemma cocked her head to the side. “Why?”

“We never said for sure. And I wanted to be on the same page.”

“I think you’re my girlfriend, and Fitz and Hunter are my boyfriends.” Jemma shut the bedroom door behind herself. “Though I suppose we can clarify later.”

“Later?” Bobbi repeated.

“You said you wanted to talk, without the boys?” Jemma prompted.

Right. She had said that yesterday.

“Do you want to unpack first? I think this is a sit-down conversation, not a do-something-else-while-talking conversation.”

Jemma looked at her suitcase, then back at Bobbi. “I think I’d rather talk.”

Bobbi nodded, and returned to the bed. Jemma followed her, and they both sat criss-cross with their backs against the headboard, knees touching.

“When did you realize you were in love with me?”

“Ninth grade,” Jemma answered immediately. “We went to that party and played Spin the Bottle and every time you spun I was angry. I didn’t figure out why until a month later when I had a dream about kissing you and realized I was so pissed because you were kissing people who weren’t me.”

Bobbi nodded, wondering why she felt like crying. When Jemma was in ninth grade and Bobbi was in tenth, Bobbi hadn’t even known she was bi, let alone into her best friend.

“You?”

“About ten seconds before I kissed you,” she admitted. “Though I guess… in college, I think freshman year, I got really drunk, and I think I knew it then. And then I got sober and forgot.”

“Why did you… why do you care?” Jemma asked eventually.

“Because I wanted to apologize for being really, really stupid.” Bobbi looked down at her hands. “I keep thinking I should’ve known sooner. And then maybe we could’ve been together.”

“We’re together now,” Jemma said, reaching over to take Bobbi’s hand. “And now we have the boys, too. That wouldn’t have happened if we started dating in high school.”

Bobbi nodded. Regretting the past wasn’t doing her any favors, but she couldn’t stop herself from running through endless _what ifs_ \- for her and Jemma, her and Hunter, her and Fitz. She kept wondering if there was a way she could have all four of them that didn’t involve so much heartache and pain. So far she hadn’t found a scenario where that happened, but… but she wanted to believe there was a way to love them all without hating herself first.

“Can I ask you another hard question?” Bobbi asked quietly.

“Of course.”

“Did you see the pictures?”

Jemma didn’t answer for a long, long time. “I wanted to,” she finally said. “And I hated myself for wanting to, because I knew they weren’t being spread consensually. But at that point I thought it was the only way I was ever going to… All the times we had sleepovers, you know, I would see you in your bra and underwear and wonder what was underneath, and… and I knew I was never going to see it, and…”

“Did you see the pictures?” Bobbi repeated. 

“No,” Jemma answered hoarsely. “But -”

“I don’t care if you wanted to,” Bobbi finally looked up, turning her whole body so she could face Jemma. “I… I would wonder, too. And I think if I hadn’t been so confused about which of you I loved, I would have spent a long time after our kiss fantasizing about you.” Bobbi chuckled breathily. “You wore a lot of bikinis in high school.”

“I did,” Jemma agreed, forcing a smile. “You’re not angry?”

“No.” Bobbi leaned forward, until her lips were brushing against Jemma’s. “As long as you’re not angry about me kissing you without asking first.”

“I’m not,” Jemma whispered, closing the space between their mouths.

There had been something holding them back before - the weight of unsaid words, the pain of keeping secrets, years and years of uncertainty and shame. All of that was erased, now - not forgotten but no longer an obstacle to them being together, truly. When Jemma’s tongue swept through her mouth, Bobbi groaned, almost-foreign heat creeping its way down between her legs. Bobbi’s hand wound through Jemma’s hair just as Jemma’s did the same, both of them seeking to be closer, closer, _closer_.

“Do you want to see me naked?” Bobbi panted when they broke away.

“W-what?”

“I want you to see me naked,” Bobbi said. _I want to show you how much I trust you._

“I - yes, if you want to.”

“I want to,” Bobbi confirmed. “I can’t - I don’t want what Grant did to keep me from having everything I want with you.” She sighed. “And right now I still can’t… you know. But I can do this. I want to do this.”

Maybe her confidence had something to do with being back in her own bedroom, a place she could control. Bobbi thought it was probably more connected to the way Jemma was looking at her, brown eyes warm and earnest and hopeful. 

“Do you want to lock the door?”

“No,” Bobbi whispered. This was for Jemma, but she trusted her boys, too. They would knock, and even if they didn’t, she wouldn’t mind them seeing. 

“Ready?” Jemma asked.

Bobbi nodded. “Ready.”

\---

“How was unpacking?” Hunter asked when Jemma and Bobbi exited the bedroom.

“Good,” Bobbi answered. “Really good.” She felt pleasantly tingly all over, like Jemma’s eyes on her skin had made an actual, physical change. And maybe it had.

“Good,” Hunter hummed. 

“What were you two up to?” Jemma peered around the kitchen. It didn’t seem like any of the groceries had been put away, or that anything else had been done for that matter. Jemma had actually unpacked after Bobbi had gotten naked for her, but the boys hadn’t made any progress on… well, anything.

“I gave Fitz a blowjob.”

“Hunter!” Fitz said, scandalized.

“What? We have a rule against lying!”

Bobbi laughed, loud and bright, and the thunderous expression on Fitz’s face melted away.

“I’ve never heard you laugh like that before,” he told her.

“I… I think I’m the happiest I’ve been since we met,” Bobbi said. “It’s easier to laugh now.” And it was. She had her people - all of her people - and she felt like she had taken huge leaps forward in terms of being the version of herself she had been when she first moved to L.A. 

“So how was the blowjob?” Jemma asked wryly. “Must not have been that good if we didn’t hear anything in the bedroom.”

“I gagged him,” Hunter said.

“ _Hunter!_ ” Fitz hissed.

“Darling, dearest Fitzy. The girls are going to find all of this out about you anyways. Why be shy?”

Fitz’s cheeks were bright red. “We just got together, and…”

“And we’ve been waiting for each other long enough,” Jemma interrupted. “I mean, maybe you and Hunter haven’t been waiting as long as some of us, but there’s absolutely no shame in desiring each other sexually.”

“Or in any other way,” Bobbi added. 

“We should talk more about sex rules, though,” Hunter said as he moved towards the bags of groceries. “What it’s okay to say or do, that sort of thing.”

“I don’t mind if you all talk about me during sex,” Bobbi piped up, moving to help Hunter with the groceries. “Even if I’m not there.”

“Ditto for me,” Hunter said.

“And me.”

“So I guess it’s unanimous,” Jemma finished. “Talking about each other is fine, but I’d prefer not to talk about other people.”

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “Why would we do that?”

“Jealousy can add an element to a sexual experience for some,” Jemma said with a shrug.

“I can agree to that when you two are present, but when we’re alone,” Bobbi pointed to herself and Hunter, “we do things a little differently.”

Jemma bristled. “Can I ask _how_ differently?”

Hunter caught her eye as they moved to the pantry together, and Bobbi nodded. “Sometimes Bob got off to me talking about how much better of a lay I am than her exes.” He cleared his throat and met her eye again. “I’m not going to say the dickwad’s name in bed, ever. Hard limit.”

“I never want to hear his name in bed, so we’re fine,” Bobbi said. She didn’t even want to think about how much of a mood killer that would be.

“Only when we’re not around?” Jemma confirmed.

“If that’s what makes you comfortable.” 

“We’ll call that a soft limit for now,” Jemma decided. “And see how things evolve as we become more comfortable with each other.”

“What about, um…” Fitz’s cheeks blazed again. “Sharing the details of our sexual experiences with each other?”

“Fine for me.” Hunter was the first to answer, which was good, because Bobbi had _heaps_ of stories about situations they had found themselves in she wanted to share.

“And me,” she said as she finished putting away the last can of soup. “And for the record, I consider masturbation under that category too.”

“Also fine,” Jemma said. “Fitz?”

“Uh…” His eyes flicked over the three of them. “I’m fine with general stuff but I don’t know how I feel about finer details.”

“We might need more guidance than that, baby,” Bobbi said as she returned to Fitz’s side. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she briefly pressed her nose into his hair, savoring the comfort and familiarity of being close to him. “What do you consider general, and details?”

“Hunter saying he gave me a blowjob is fine. Saying he gagged me is fine. Saying what he gagged me with or how long I lasted, not fine.” Fitz cleared his throat. “I… I’m still considering this. I hadn’t really thought about sex stuff, honestly. I need time to think over more of it.”

“One more thing?” Bobbi asked. “And we can table the sex talk.”

Fitz nodded, pulling her closer.

“Watching, I’m fine with. No recording. No pictures. Please.” She hated having to say it just as much as they hated hearing it, but Bobbi wanted her position to be clear. One day, she hoped, it would change, but today was not that day.

“Of course.” Fitz took her hand. “I’m fine with watching and pictures, no video.”

“I’m the same as Fitz,” Jemma said.

“You all can do whatever you want with me. Watch, take pictures, take videos, whatever. As long as they’re on your phone and not the internet.”

When Hunter was finished speaking, they all looked at each other, almost unsure of how to switch the subject.

“Speaking of watching… movie night?” Bobbi suggested, hoping to find a less-serious activity to occupy the rest of their night.

Jemma grinned. “Movie night sounds excellent.”


	12. Chapter 12

_One day I am going to be able to text you about something other than seeing you in magazines._

Bobbi sighed and rolled over, shoving her phone back under her pillow. Fitz, bare-chested and still mostly asleep, followed her. 

Her phone buzzed again, and Bobbi groaned. Piper wasn’t going to let her go back to sleep.

 _For the record, those pictures were taken like a week ago._ Bobbi texted back in response to Piper’s further comments about the paparazzi photos of her and Fitz

_Call me?_

_The boy is still asleep._ Not to mention Hunter, who was migrating closer to Bobbi every second. Jemma was following, clinging to Hunter’s back like a burr. How she was going to explain this to Piper, Bobbi didn’t have a clue.

_Then leave the bedroom!_

_But he’s warm :(_

He was warm, and so was Hunter. Hunter and Jemma were going to be leaving later - Jemma had an audition - so Bobbi didn’t want to miss out on a moment of time she could be spending with them, even if they were mostly asleep.

_Fiiiiiiine. Call me when he’s up._

Bobbi responded to the affirmative before passing the phone to Fitz, who blindly put it onto the side table before cuddling back into her. Now in a sandwich between her boys, Bobbi sighed contentedly. The past week felt like a dream, but not in the way her time with Fitz had. When it had just been her and Fitz, Bobbi was terrified of waking up. Now, Bobbi wasn’t afraid at all. She knew there would be someone in the bed beside her. Fitz had worked a few days, and so had Hunter and Jemma, but they had never all worked at once. The constant companionship was good. Maybe eventually it would get old, but for now, it was exactly what Bobbi needed.

“Who was that?” Fitz mumbled.

“Just Piper.” Bobbi smoothed a hand through his sleep-mussed curls. He was adorable like this, his blue eyes squinting and his face still peaceful.

“Who’s Piper?” Hunter wrapped a possessive arm around her, and Bobbi rolled her eyes at him. She did not enjoy Hunter’s perpetual reminders that she was his, not one bit. She _definitely_ did not wiggle closer to him so he could hold her tighter.

“A friend.” Bobbi yawned. “And you have her to thank for us being together, so don’t get all grumbly.”

“Not grumbly.”

“You are too,” Jemma whispered from her position on his other side. “And you’re even grumblier because we have to leave.”

“So are you!”

“I’ll be fine,” Bobbi assured them. “Fitz and I have plans for today.”

“We do.” How Fitz was keeping up with the conversation when he seemed seconds away from falling asleep again was beyond Bobbi.

Hunter huffed unhappily. “As long as those plans don’t involve forgetting about your Brits.”

“Why would I ever want to forget Jemma?”

“Hurtful, Bob.” Hunter clutched her closer, though, so Bobbi knew she wasn’t in any real trouble - for now.

\---

“Yes, it really did take me two hours to get out of bed!” Bobbi insisted, giving Hunter and Jemma one last kiss goodbye before shooing them out the door. “And before you ask, it’s _not_ like that.” Bobbi had mostly gotten over her fear of being naked (at least in the bedroom of her apartment) and she had even spent one night watching Fitz, Jemma, and Hunter fumble their way through their first threesome, but she was still waiting for the right moment to jump back into sex herself.

“Whatever you say,” Piper snorted across the phone line. “I’m still not sure how many details of your sex life I want to know, just so we’re clear.”

“Babe, if you’re going to give me a play-by-play of every time Daisy eats you out, you can at _least_ let me tell you if I ever have sex.”

“You know, that’s fair.”

“I know it is. Speaking of, I have some updates on that front.” Bobbi halted in her tracks. She had been pacing from the kitchen to the living room and back again, which wasn’t a good sign. She needed to relax.

“...You’re confusing me. Have you and the boy had sex, or no?”

“No,” Bobbi said, moving to sit on the sofa. “But, uh… it’s more than just the boy in the picture now.”

“Oh?” Piper was obviously waiting for more information before making any judgments.

“So, um… have you ever heard of polyamory?”

“I’m familiar, yes.” Was that excitement in Piper’s voice?

“Yeah. Um. Me and Fitz and the girl Fitz was in love with and my ex-fiancé are all kind of together now.”

“Do I need to yell at you about defining the relationship again?” Piper sighed.

“I mean kind of together like - like I want to ease the blow on you, not like we haven’t talked about it. We have.” After Bobbi’s initial awkward conversation with Jemma about whether or not they were girlfriends, the four of them had all clarified the proper nomenclature for their relationship. Over the course of the week they’d also talked more about boundaries, sexual and otherwise, and it had been… it had been good. Relationship negotiations were a good way to build trust, which felt strange to think, since Bobbi trusted her partners more than anyone else in the world, except maybe Piper.

“So, do they all have names, or am I just supposed to call them boy one, boy two, and girl?”

“You know Fitz’s name and you call him the boy anyways.”

“Yeah, but now that’s not specific enough. Come on, tell me.”

“Well, Fitz you know. My ex-fiancé is Hunter. I think you met him when we were together? Anyways. Fitz’s friend is Jemma.”

“Jemma Simmons?” 

“Uh, yeah. Why?” Bobbi wrinkled her nose.

“I’ve just been seeing her name everywhere. And her picture. Daisy thinks she’s hot.”

“Daisy has good taste,” Bobbi said, smiling. “Hold on, Fitz just got out of the shower.” She covered the microphone on her phone. “Any words of wisdom for Piper?”

“Tell her to stop texting my girlfriend at ungodly hours.”

“It was eight in the morning, Fitz!”

“Ungodly hour,” Fitz repeated.

“Fitz had a message but it was dumb,” Bobbi relayed to Piper when she uncovered the mouthpiece. “Anyways. I think you probably got this, but keep it on the down-low, okay? It’s all kind of new.”

“Maybe it’s new officially, but you were dancing around this for _ever_.”

“Either way,” Bobbi said, cheeks heating. 

“You know it. I’m not in the mood for making your life living hell again. By the way, those pictures of you and Fitz were actually kind of cute, if you ignore the fact they were paparazzi.”

“Thanks, I think,” Bobbi laughed. “Was there anything else you wanted to talk about, or just the pictures?”

“Well, I wanted an update on the boy, and I got that. Oh, and I wanted to know if you wanted some agent info. It’s August and you haven’t told me your decision yet about getting back on the horse.”

“I got kind of distracted,” Bobbi admitted. “But Fitz and I are going to put together a new portfolio for that campaign… shit. Hold on a sec.” She moved her phone away from her mouth again. “Hey Fitz, what was the thing called?”

“Fuck if I know!” he called back. “The woman was May!”

“Thanks!” Bobbi opened her mouth to repeat the information to Piper, but the other woman was already talking.

“Melinda May? She’s got a reputation.”

“Does she?” Bobbi had never heard of her before.

“She’s an artist, man. But like, thematically? If there were Oscars for photoshoots she’d win an Oscar, is all I’m saying.”

“Huh.” Bobbi’s face fell. “So what do you think my chances are of getting in with her?”

“Higher than you’d think,” Piper said reassuringly. “She’s an artist, but she’s also a bitch and a half to work with, I’ve heard. She doesn’t tolerate less than excellence, and if people are looking for easy paychecks…”

“I’m not.” Bobbi was just looking for _a_ paycheck. She had savings, and she also got the feeling she would be splitting rent in the near future, but beyond the monetary side of things, she just wanted to get back to normal. Going to jobs, leaving her apartment, doing _things_.

“I think you’ll do great. She likes resilience. And you’re smoking hot, so…”

Bobbi laughed again. “Thanks, Piper.”

“Any time. Hey, don’t go another week without calling, okay?”

“I won’t. It was just crazy.”

“Yeah, but I’m only accepting the ‘I started a polyamorous relationship with three people this week’ excuse once.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“But you love me.”

“I do love you,” Bobbi sighed. “I’ll let you go.”

“And I love you too,” Piper said before she hung up the phone.

“Should I be worried?” Fitz asked, finally joining her on the couch.

“Platonic love, baby.” She pecked Fitz’s lips. “You ready to get to work?”

“I’ll get my camera. Open the blinds for me?”

Bobbi did as she was told, allowing natural light to stream in through the windows. Fitz collected his camera equipment from the corner he had shoved it in and began setting up his tripod 

“Is there anything I should do?” Bobbi asked nervously. She hadn’t put on any makeup, and after the shower she’d shared with Jemma she had only changed into sweatpants and one of Hunter’s old soccer jerseys - not exactly a photoshoot-worthy outfit.

“We want to mimic the style of the campaign, right?” Fitz asked. Bobbi nodded in confirmation. “From the details I could find on the website, it’s all about natural beauty. No makeup, no fancy clothes, nothing but the models and their bodies.”

Bobbi straightened uncomfortably. “And my body, right.” The body she was struggling so hard to accept as her own again. The body which hadn’t been in front of a camera since the incident. A breath caught raggedly in her throat, and before Bobbi knew it, Fitz was standing in front of her, hands on her shoulders.

“Are you ready for this?” he asked, voice gentle.

“No,” Bobbi admitted. “But I want to do it.” She hadn’t been ready for hardly any of what had happened to her in the last few months, from meeting Jemma to falling in love with Fitz to seeing Hunter again to Grant spreading her pictures on the internet to this crazy love quadrangle she was trying to make work. She hadn’t been ready, and some bad things had happened, but so had good things. She wasn’t going to let herself choke out the good for fear of the bad.

“I love you,” Fitz whispered.

“Love you too.” Bobbi pressed their foreheads together for a second, eyes closed, before stepping back from Fitz. “Okay, boss. Tell me where you want me.”

In addition to being a talented photographer, Fitz was a surprisingly good director. He knew Bobbi well enough to know what positions looked natural for her, the best way for the light to highlight her bone structure, how to make her feel at ease, and a hundred other things a good director ought to know. They moved from the kitchen to the living room, taking photo after photo. Fitz had her change outfits a few times, but they were always equally as unstyled and comfortable as her original sweatpants and jersey.

They broke for lunch, but Bobbi was jittery and eager to get back to their impromptu photoshoot. She wanted to have it done before Jemma and Hunter got home, which would hopefully be before dinner.

“I don’t know, Fitz,” Bobbi said an hour or so after lunch time as she stretched out on the sofa, pretending to lounge. “I know I look like me, but do I look… good?”

Fitz lifted his head from the viewfinder. “What do you mean?”

“Do I look good,” Bobbi repeated clearly. “You know. Attractive. Sexy, if you want to use that word.” 

“Why wouldn’t you?” he asked, setting his camera down with a frown on his face.

She shrugged. “I mean. People only like me for my body, right? And if I’m just in this -” she gestured down to her outfit, a band tee of Jemma’s and a different pair of sweats than earlier “- am I really worth looking at?” Maybe it felt awful to say, but it was _right_. People wanted to look at pictures of her naked - Grant had proved as much. And all of the jobs she did proved people wanted to look at her in bikinis or slinky dresses or form-fitting jeans. No one wanted to see her wearing tattered clothes that hid her body from sight.

“Is that what you think Hunter and Jemma and I love you for?” Fitz looked… upset.

She shrugged again. “I mean, you must like my body a little, right?”

“I - I do,” Fitz said, obviously struggling for words. “But I don’t like it because you’re wearing certain clothes. I mean, I’m waiting for the day I get to peel you out of that one dress in the back of your closet, but you are _just_ as sexy to me in what you’re wearing right now as you were in the bikini you were wearing the day we met.”

Bobbi blinked, startled. “What?”

“I said, what you’re wearing right now is sexy. I am attracted to you no matter what you’re wearing, because you’re you. Understand?”

Bobbi opened her mouth, but found no words were coming out.

He wanted her, just as she was. Bobbi felt like the missing puzzle piece was falling into place. She had spent the last three years of her life thinking her only worth was her body. Even if Hunter had told her otherwise when they were still together, she hadn’t believed him - she had been too deep in the world of modelling and her own narcissism. Her nudes being leaked had just reinforced that idea; she was only a body.

But she _wasn’t_. She knew she wasn’t, but deep down she must’ve been waiting for someone else to know it, too. Bobbi didn’t have a doubt Hunter and Jemma felt the same as Fitz did, but Fitz had been the first to say it.

He loved her. He wanted her. He thought she was beautiful, because she was herself.

“Can we have sex?”

The words rang in her ears and Bobbi could see the shock plain on Fitz’s face. “Now?”

“Yeah,” Bobbi said, voice cracking. “Yeah, now.”

“I don’t think I understand.”

“I want to have sex with you,” Bobbi said, desperation rising like a soap bubble in her chest, iridescent but unexpectedly cold. “I want you, I -” _I need to believe you’re telling me the truth. Please be telling me the truth._ “I don’t have all my words right now.” She swallowed hard. “But I would like you to take my clothes off now, please.”

Fitz hesitated, and the bubble in Bobbi’s chest felt dangerously close to popping. He was going to say no. He was lying, he didn’t actually want her, he -

He was kissing her. Bobbi sighed into the kiss, eyes sliding shut as Fitz’s tongue stroked through her mouth. He pushed her back into the sofa, and memories of their disastrous first date clawed to the front of her mind. They were quickly dispelled when Fitz’s hands skimmed over her sides. They weren’t hot, unfamiliar hands like they had been the first night they spent together. These were the hands she knew like her own, hands that kept her safe. The bubble of desperation shrank, then collapsed into nothing as his thumbs curved along her hip bones.

He didn’t remind her that he would stop if she asked, which Bobbi was grateful for. She wanted this, and she wanted Fitz to _believe_ she wanted this. 

He did pause, though, when they were both fully naked, her still spread beneath him, open and inviting.

“Yes,” she breathed, and that was enough for him.

The sunlight still streaming in from the open windows caught on the ends of Fitz’s curls and the tips of his eyelashes, forming a golden halo. Bobbi looked up at him, a smile aching at her cheeks. Yes, her Fitz was an angel - and yes, he took her to heaven.

\---

“So,” Hunter said, the word stretching out like taffy in the hot air of the apartment, “you two had fun when we were gone.”

“Um.” Bobbi, surprisingly, didn’t feel the need to blush, even though Hunter and Jemma had walked in on her and Fitz in the post-coital afterglow. “I am no longer a hard no on sex,” she said unnecessarily. 

Hunter snorted, and Jemma smirked.

“Did you get your work done before you jumped each other?” Hunter asked, padding over to the window so he could lower the blinds. Bobbi smiled gratefully at him - even with her newfound confidence she didn’t want to flash the neighbors.

“We finished the photoshoot,” Fitz said, sitting up. Bobbi fished his clothing off the floor and handed it to him. “I still have to edit the photos and Bobbi and I will have to choose which ones are going to go into the portfolio, but some of the work is done.”

“You know what they say about all work and no play anyways,” Hunter said. 

“Did you and Jemma get any play?” Bobbi asked archly.

“Mmm, not nearly as much play as I’d like. But according to the little lady the audition went well, so we can all hope she’ll be hearing from them soon.”

Jemma swatted at Hunter’s shoulder. “She didn’t care about the audition.”

“Yes she did! Bob, you care, right?”

“Of course I do,” Bobbi said, glaring at Jemma. “I also care about whether or not you two would be interested in joining me for more play later.” Her libido had never been the problem for Bobbi, in hindsight. It was always the stupid confidence thing.

“Name three times I have _ever_ said no to sex with you. Actually -” Hunter held up a finger “- don’t or I’ll get depressed.”

Bobbi smiled at him. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes from me. Jem?”

“Hold on, my inner eighteen-year-old is freaking out a bit,” Jemma murmured.

“Didn’t you get your freakout out of the way when I took my bra off in front of you for the first time?” Bobbi teased.

“Sex is a little different!” Jemma defended. “But yes. Yes. I want to, please and thank you.”

“Am I invited too?” Fitz asked as he finished pulling on his shirt.

“If you’re up for it.”

“I’ll have you know, my stamina is excellent.” Fitz grinned.

Bobbi sighed. Why did boys always feel the need to brag about that?

“Dinner first. And I do want to hear more about that audition, Jem,” Bobbi declared, making her way into the kitchen. She and Fitz could finish the portfolio creation tomorrow, when they didn’t have their partners and the prospect of a bedroom waiting for them.

“I’ll tell you about my audition if you tell me about shagging Fitz!”

“Fitz and I had sex on the couch. The end.” Bobbi raised her eyebrows at Jemma. Even in their further negotiations around sex, Fitz had yet to decide where his line was on details he was comfortable being shared, and Bobbi wasn’t going to disrespect that - especially not when what they had shared together was so special.

“If only the couch was big enough for all four of us,” Jemma sighed wistfully.

“...You’re not going to be able to focus until we have sex, are you?” Bobbi asked.

“Absolutely not,” Jemma sighed.

“Bedroom?”

“Bedroom.”


	13. Chapter 13

“Hunter!” Bobbi poked her head out from the bedroom, trying to spot her wayward boyfriend.

“Coming!” He appeared a moment later, and Bobbi smirked. He hadn’t bothered taming his bedhead and his hair was sticking up every which way.

“You look ridiculous,” she said, smoothing down a tuft of his hair.

“Did you call me over just to insult me?” he pouted.

“No, I didn’t. Come in.” She pulled him into the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. They were the only two in the apartment - Fitz was at a shoot and Jemma was at the gym - so shutting the door was unnecessary, but Bobbi still wanted this to feel… private.

“I found something the other day when Fitz and I were doing our photoshoot, and I thought maybe you should have it.” Bobbi wrung her hands nervously, waiting for any reaction from Hunter. He just cocked an eyebrow at her, oblivious to what she was about to fish out from the back of her sock drawer.

When Bobbi turned back around, there was a small black velvet box in her palm. She extended her hand towards Hunter, and he plucked the box out of it before sitting heavily on the bed.

“This what I think it is?” He stared at the box but didn’t open it.

“Yeah.” Bobbi leaned back against the dresser. “It’s not like I needed the money from selling it or anything, so…” So she had just forgotten it until she’d been rummaging in her drawers for suitably casual clothing for her portfolio.

“I’m not going to sell it either,” Hunter said, looking back up at her.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t,” Bobbi admitted. “I’d… I’d like it back someday. When we’re ready. All of us, I mean.”

“You really think we could get married?”

“I hope so.” Slowly, Bobbi made her way over to where Hunter was sitting. She ran her fingers through his hair again, but the flyaways were more stubborn than she was. “We’re basically already living together and no one’s been murdered yet, so I’d say that’s a good start.”

“I didn’t mean the four of us,” Hunter said softly. “I mean, yes, the four of us. But you and me?”

“I’m not the one who walked away.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Hunter sighed. “I need to know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me.”

Bobbi lowered herself onto the bed beside Hunter, focusing on the box in his hands. The day he proposed had been one of the happiest days of her life. It still was, even after everything had gone wrong.

“I know why you did it,” she said. “And I know it was my fault. And I guess I’m more worried… that if things get bad, you’ll leave again.” She was doing good now, but she couldn’t promise she always would be. She couldn’t promise she wouldn’t backslide, and that was terrifying.

“Oh, Bob.” Hunter wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tight and strong. “Leaving you was the hardest thing I ever did. And I don’t regret it, because it put us here, but… I couldn’t do it again. If you rewound time and put me back in the middle of that fight and told me to walk out the door, I wouldn’t be able to do it, even knowing how it all turns out.”

“Why not?” she whispered.

“Because it hurt you. Don’t say it didn’t to make me feel better, because I _know_ it hurt you. And I can’t hurt you anymore, especially not on purpose.” Hunter cleared his throat. “You were my first love, and you’re going to be my last. Understand?”

Bobbi nodded, then quietly turned her face to Hunter for a kiss. He obliged her, lips soft against hers.

“Do you forgive me?” Hunter asked quietly. “For leaving?”

“You don’t need to be forgiven. This is a me thing.”

“Then don’t forgive me for walking away the first time. Forgive me for not making you feel safe enough now.”

“That’s still not your fault!” Hunter couldn’t blame himself for her insecurities. Well, he could - and obviously he was - but it didn’t make sense. Bobbi had learned enough to know when she needed to take responsibility for her own shit, and worrying about him leaving was _definitely_ her own shit.

“It feels like it is.” Hunter pressed his mouth to hers in a firm, hot kiss. Bobbi yielded to him, his lips searing against hers, his tongue like a whip of fire as it passed over hers. She clutched at his knee with her free hand, fingers digging into his skin when his teeth scraped against her lip. He was _burning_ but in the best way, until Bobbi remembered - Hunter only kissed like this when he felt he had something to prove.

She jerked back from his mouth but kept her grip on his knee. “Do you need me to say I forgive you? Because I’ll say it if you need it.”

Hunter jerked his head in a nod.

“I forgive you.” Bobbi leaned forward to kiss him again, gentler this time. Like water, not fire - cool and soft and life-giving. “Even if I don’t think you need to be forgiven.”

“Thank you.” Hunter rested his forehead against hers. “You’ll get the ring back someday. Just promise me you’ll say yes.”

“I’ll say yes,” she said without hesitation. That was never a question for her. From the day he had left to the day he’d come back, any time he asked her, she would’ve said yes. “And next time we’ll actually make it to the wedding.”

“We will.”

\---

“People have _got_ to stop caring so much about me,” Bobbi muttered as she ducked into Coulson’s Diner, Jemma just a half-step behind her.

Jemma hummed her agreement, and allowed Bobbi to tug her to the back corner of the diner, where Piper was waving.

“Hey,” Bobbi said as she slid into the booth. “Piper, this is Jemma. Jemma, Piper.”

Jemma smiled awkwardly while Piper gave a more genuine smile and a wave.

“Where’s Daisy?” Bobbi asked. This was supposedly a double-date affair, though Bobbi wasn’t going to point out every date she went on for the rest of her life was going to look like a double date to outsiders. Bobbi rubbed at her eyes with the heels of her hands. Thinking about public perception was just going to give her a headache. The tabloids had gone after her for being seen with two men, and there wasn’t anything overtly romantic about the picture that had been taken of her and Hunter. Only being able to be herself behind closed doors sounded exhausting, and Bobbi didn’t want to know what story the photographers outside were going to spin about her and Jemma.

“She’s about to go on break, then she’ll join us,” Piper said. She was still looking Jemma up and down, a hint of judgment in her gaze.

“Is she going to be wearing a paper bag over her head or will she finally deign to show me her face?” Bobbi asked, hoping to distract Jemma and keep her from fidgeting uncomfortably under Piper’s scrutiny.

“I’m assuming the second.” Piper finally finished inspecting Jemma. “When do I get to see the other two?”

“When you learn how not to look at them like cuts of meat.”

“Hey, as your best, coolest, and only friend, I have to make sure all your partners are actually worthy of you.”

“You are _so_ embarrassing.” Bobbi was going to have to work on Piper being her only friend, if only so that couldn’t be used against her.

“I like her,” Jemma declared.

“Ah! She speaks!”

“The trick is getting her to stop,” Bobbi said, shoving her shoulder against Jemma’s teasingly.

“Mine’s the same,” Piper commiserated.

“You don’t have much room to talk,” Jemma said, poking at Bobbi’s ribs. Bobbi squeaked and squirmed away from her girlfriend, pouting.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice said as an equally-familiar woman slid into the booth beside Piper. “Dad wanted to talk before I officially clocked out for lunch.”

Bobbi blinked. She recognized the woman, and probably would have even if she wasn’t wearing a Coulson’s Diner name tag. She was around most of the times Bobbi visited the diner, and more importantly, she had been the waitress to serve Bobbi and Fitz on their first date.

And Bobbi had never even learned her name, despite all the times she had been to Coulson’s - all the times Daisy had served her. She sighed. Would memories of her old, terrible ways ever cease to haunt her?

“It’s all good,” Piper said easily. “Daisy, my friend Bobbi and her girlfriend, Jemma.”

“So things didn’t work out with Curly?” Daisy asked, levelling Bobbi with a gaze that would’ve made lesser women cower.

“You didn’t tell her?” Bobbi said, eyes flickering to Piper.

“I figured keeping it on the down-low meant not telling anyone, not even her.”

“Oh.” Bobbi turned back to Daisy. “Fitz and I are still together. Jemma’s also with both of us, and we have a fourth, too. His name’s Hunter.” Hopefully Daisy was as hip to polyamory as Piper was, otherwise what she’d just said would be confusing.

“Ooh, that’s the guy who’s always glaring at the cameras when you’re around!” Daisy said, pointing at Jemma. “I’m right, right?”

“Yes.” Jemma looked down at her hands. “He’s technically my bodyguard.”

Daisy snorted. “You all really have the messy Hollywood relationship thing down.”

“If only you knew,” Bobbi muttered under her breath. “It’s nice to meet you officially, Daisy,” she said in a louder voice.

“You too. Sorry about all the smoke and mirrors earlier, by the way. I wasn’t sure if you’d agree to meet me if you knew about this.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Bobbi said, cocking her head to the side.

Daisy shrugged. “Not wanting to be seen with a lowly waitress? Not wanting to answer questions about Curly? Some other totally unrelated reason?”

“She was probably more concerned about me possibly dating someone in witness protection than dating a waitress,” Piper drawled.

“Piper’s also proven she is much better at being a functional adult than I am, so I don’t think I have room to judge who she dates or their vocation,” Bobbi added drily.

“You mentioned your dad,” Jemma cut in. “Does he work here too?”

“Oh, he’s the owner,” Daisy answered, waving her hand nonchalantly. “Daisy Coulson’s the name, filling in for all of my dad’s waiters is my game.”

“How much would I have to pay you to divulge the family recipe for burgers?” Bobbi asked. “They’re to die for and I still can’t figure out what makes them so fucking delicious.”

Daisy laughed, visibly relaxing now that she was sure Bobbi wasn’t going to throw a bitch fit about her being a waitress. “Probably more money than you have.”

“I don’t know, I’ve got a rich girlfriend,” Bobbi said, tilting her head towards Jemma.

“I’m not rich!” Jemma sputtered.

“You have your own bodyguard. You’re totally rich.” Granted, Jemma’s agency was the one paying for the bodyguard, but considering they were willing to sink that much money into her… she was definitely an asset, and one that would be appreciating in value, if she wasn’t rich already.

“Remind me to show you my bank account later,” Jemma grumbled under her breath. Bobbi forced her face to remain calm and expressionless. She hadn’t even _considered_ what the mess of sharing finances with three other people would look like, but the mention of seeing Jemma’s bank account was bringing up a whole host of things that would require negotiations in the future. 

But the future wasn’t now, and Bobbi wasn’t going to let worry ruin their lunch with Piper and Daisy.

One of the other servers at Coulson’s came to take their orders, and when they were done Bobbi found herself in the awkward position of not being sure what to say to start the conversation again.

“How did you two meet?” Bobbi asked after a pause.

“That depends on which one of us you believe,” Daisy answered immediately.

Bobbi leaned forward onto the table, propping her chin on her hand. “It sounds like you’re about to give me blackmail material on Piper, and I am so for that.”

“Hey!”

“You’re going to spend the rest of my life ragging on me for being an idiot for… well, for everything. If I can get a little bit of dirt back on you I think I deserve it.”

“Stop being an idiot and I’ll stop ragging on you.” Piper smirked.

“I did stop being an idiot! I have the proof!” Bobbi gestured violently towards Jemma and almost knocked over the glasses of water spread on the table. She blushed furiously while Jemma stroked a hand down her arm soothingly. 

“Yes, we’re all very proud of you, dear,” Jemma said.

“Why do I feel like you meant that in a patronizing way?” Bobbi asked, eyes narrowing.

“Maybe because I did.” Jemma was the picture of innocence, with those big brown eyes and perfectly kissable pouting lips. Bobbi sighed, bumping her shoulder against Jemma’s in lieu of the kiss she so desperately wanted to give. Stupid paprazzi and stupid cameraphones and… Bobbi sighed as she slid her fingers through Jemma’s under the table. It was just something she was going to have to get used to.

“Anyways,” Daisy chirped, “here’s the story. So I’m working, right…”

\---

“Boys?” Jemma called, flicking on the lights in Bobbi’s apartment (though it was mostly unnecessary, since sunlight was filtering in through the cracks in the blinds). Bobbi toed off her shoes, huffing softly. Her boys were nowhere to be found when all she wanted was a cuddle pile and someone to tell her she wasn’t making a horrific mistake.

“Boys!” Jemma shouted, louder and more authoritatively. Another few beats passed before Fitz stumbled out of the bedroom, rubbing at his eyes.

“Napping,” Fitz mumbled before Jemma could ask where he had been. Bobbi shared a glance with Jemma, and without speaking they followed him back to the bedroom. Hunter was still asleep on the bed, but when Bobbi slipped in next to him he roused himself just enough to give her a sleepy kiss.

“Wake up,” Jemma said, nudging Hunter when she slid into bed beside him. “We need to talk.”

“It doesn’t have to be now,” Bobbi protested. Jemma gave her a look over Hunter’s shoulder, and Bobbi sighed before turning to bury her head in Fitz’s chest. 

“What’s wrong?” Fitz asked, his words still slurring together thanks to his sleepiness. His fingers were combing through Bobbi’s hair, more out of habit than anything, she suspected.

“We went on our date with Piper and Daisy, and Bobbi’s upset we couldn’t do anything in public,” Jemma explained succinctly. 

“It’s dumb,” Bobbi said into the fabric of Fitz’s shirt.

“It’s not dumb,” her partners chorused. 

“I’m not sure I have a solution to this, love,” Hunter said after a long pause, heavy sigh lacing his words. “And I’m sorry I don’t.”

“Me as well.” Jemma sounded similarly put-out, which was to be expected. She was a problem-solver; she liked to make things make sense. It was why she had been a scientist before taking a left turn into acting. 

“I just… I’m not crazy, right?” Bobbi asked. She realized she probably would be more audible if she removed her face from Fitz’s chest, but she didn’t want to. Right now she felt like hiding from the world, and Fitz would always be one of her safest hiding places.

“For wanting to be able to be public about who you love? No, not crazy,” Hunter confirmed. His hand snaked out and began drawing patterns on her back, featherlight and comforting. 

“I’m sorry,” Jemma said.

“It’s not your fault, either,” Fitz said over Bobbi’s head. She nodded her agreement. “Even if you weren’t getting a lot of public attention, Bobbi still would be, after everything.” Bobbi wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to escape a reputation of promiscuity now that she had it. Even if she explained what polyamory was and what it meant to her, how many people would be ready to hear it? And how many would just think it was her covering up her cheating? And regardless of how much Jemma insisted her own reputation was a non-issue, she was done dragging her best friend - her girlfriend, now - into her messes. This felt like an awfully big mess.

Bobbi sighed.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Jemma asked.

Bobbi shrugged, ignoring the tears dripping down her face and onto Fitz’s shirt. Just when she thought she got to be happy, something else had to get in her way. 

“We shouldn’t even be public in the first place,” she muttered, trying to convince herself some way this was the way things had to be. It was hard for her to remember how little time the four of them had actually spent together, not with all the history between them and how well they just _fit_. Any other budding relationship Bobbi would’ve wanted to shelter from the storm of public opinion, but here, with her people… she wanted to shout from the rooftops that she wasn’t a fuck-up, she had finally gotten something _right_.

“It’s okay to want that,” Fitz said, kissing the crown of her head. “You’re allowed to want that.”

Was she?

“You’re allowed to wish things were different, Bob,” Hunter echoed, fingers halting in the idle patterns he was drawing on her back. “I wish things were different, too. I wish the world was ready to accept that we have hearts big enough for more than one person, because I think we’re all sort of brilliant for being able to make this work.”

“If you want someone else to be your public partner, that’s okay too,” Fitz added in a whisper.

“I want you,” Bobbi whispered back. It was the first thing she had said intentionally quiet enough for Hunter and Jemma to be unable to hear, but it was between her and Fitz that she wanted him. Bobbi also didn’t want Jemma or Hunter to think she _didn’t_ want them. It was just that Fitz was her perfect partner to the public eye. He was her perfect partner behind closed doors, too - just not her only perfect partner.

“Even if we can’t fix it, we want to be here,” Jemma said after a long pause. “And even if we can’t show our love everywhere we want to, we can show it where it counts.”

“With each other,” Bobbi said, finally withdrawing from Fitz.

“With each other,” Jemma confirmed. She crawled over Hunter to cuddle into Bobbi’s side, kissing the joint of her shoulder and neck softly. “And with the people who know us, instead of just knowing the parts of us we allow the public to see.”

“We can call my dad if you want.” Hunter grinned wickedly. “He would be thrilled!”

Bobbi reached an arm across Jemma to whack Hunter in the center of his chest. “We are never, ever, _ever_ calling your parents.”

“What’s with his dad?” Fitz asked, confused.

“We don’t talk about Hunter’s dad,” Bobbi said coldly. For all the levity in her teasing with him, Bobbi certainly hoped Hunter knew she would never ask him to get in touch with his father, even as a joke. “It’s a miracle he had anything to do with producing a decent human being, let alone an amazing one like Lance.”

“Aw, Bob, do you really mean it?” Hunter’s voice was still light, but his fingers had curled around her wrist, as if he was scared she would jerk her hand away.

“Of course I do.” She lifted her head off the mattress so she could look at him overtop of Jemma. “You’re better than him. You _deserved_ better than him. And so did your mum.” Hunter's father being an absolute piece of shit was part of the reason Bobbi had been so happy when his mother had found somebody else to love, somebody better.

Hunter looked at her in closed-mouth shock for a moment before nodding. He still didn’t let go of her wrist, instead sliding his fingers across her pulse point as if reassuring himself this wasn’t a figment of the imagination.

“My parents will be very confused when we tell them,” Jemma said crisply. “I still don’t think they’ve quite accepted the bisexual thing.”

“I don’t remember when the last time I talked to my parents was,” Bobbi admitted. It was sometime after she and Hunter broke up, but Bobbi didn’t have a more specific timeline than that. She and her mother had argued, and then her mom had said not to call back until Bobbi got her life together. Naturally, that had hurt quite a bit, and with Bobbi’s stubbornness…

“Remind me to call my mom tomorrow,” she said to no one in particular.

“My mum’ll love all of you,” Fitz said. “She’s been on me to find a nice girl to settle down with for so long. I think she’ll be thrilled with three partners instead of one.”

“Really?” Hunter asked dubiously.

“Really.” Fitz grinned. “My mum’s kind of like the rest of us, I think. She’s got a heart big enough for anyone who wants in.”

Bobbi smiled at the ceiling. Meeting Fitz’s mother sounded nice. So did sharing the people she loved with the ones who actually deserved to see it.


	14. Chapter 14

Bobbi craned her neck back, shading her eyes against the glare of sun on glass. She knew she was at the right building - the addresses matched - but she hadn’t thought Melinda May’s office would be so… normal looking? It was just another office building on just another block, barely indistinguishable from the others. From Piper’s hushed stories of May’s reputation, Bobbi had half-expected a castle.

After one last bracing breath, Bobbi stepped off the sidewalk, through the sliding doors, and into the belly of the beast. The security guard at the front desk gave her a guest badge to clip to her blazer and directions to May’s office, where she was expected. She hummed along nervously to the elevator music, resisting the urge to smooth her sweaty palms on her pencil skirt. Business professional wasn’t her favorite style of clothing to wear, but she had been assured there would be three sets of eager hands to take it off her when she returned home.

Steadied by the memory of her partners and their faith in her, Bobbi stepped off the elevator and into the lobby of the thirty-third floor. A woman with long, dark hair and a severe expression on her face moved forward as soon as the elevator had shut.

“Mrs. Morse?” Bobbi nodded. “I’m Melinda May. Nice to meet you.” After a brief handshake, Bobbi was led through a hallway and to an office that, again, seemed deceptively normal. A piece of avant-garde art hung behind the large oak desk, but with the exception of that and the plant in the corner, the place was spartan.

Bobbi perched herself on the chair she was gestured into, forcing herself to meet May’s steady, searching gaze.

“I have to say, Mrs. Morse, we were certainly impressed with the photos you submitted. You worked with a photographer for them?”

Bobbi nodded, not trusting her voice.

“They’re very talented.”

Bobbi fought the flush rising in her cheeks. “He is.” Under any other circumstance Bobbi would’ve taken the opportunity to brag about Fitz, but she didn’t have her legs under her in the figurative or literal sense, and bragging was the last thing on her mind.

“We have some… concerns, given your recent media presence.” May leaned forward slightly. “Our campaign already has a lot to go up against already. Changing minds and hearts isn’t an easy thing.”

“I understand,” Bobbi said, not wavering even when May narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing Bobbi. 

“Do you have anything more to say about that?” she prompted.

“I’d imagine you realize how biased the media can be towards women,” Bobbi said slowly. “And I also believe you know the situation with Grant Ward wasn’t my fault.” Bobbi didn’t see how May could run a campaign about women reclaiming and celebrating their bodies without also recognizing the ways the world tried to control and manipulate those bodies. 

May relaxed somewhat. “I do, and I do. But I wanted to know if you did.”

“It took some time,” Bobbi admitted. “But I’m in a better place now.” She didn’t want to say more than that to the woman who might become her employer. Already the interview was different than Bobbi expected - she wasn’t even sure she could call it an interview at all.

“I’ll tell you now, I want you,” May said. “I have a vision, and you’re a part of it. I have some investors I’m trying to wrangle, and this meeting was a formality for their sake.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped. A formality? She was going to have a _job_? And, moreover, a job she didn’t hate the idea of? 

“Is there anything you need from me to help with that?” Bobbi asked when she finally got her voice back. She flexed her fingers, reminding herself the deal wasn’t done yet. There was a chance May wouldn’t be able to get the investors on board, after everything Bobbi had been through reputation-wise.

“No, I’ve got it handled.” The corner of May’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “Though if you have the contact information of the photographer you worked with, I’d appreciate it.”

There was the blush again. May pushed over a piece of paper and pen and Bobbi scribbled down Fitz’s name and number. If May had any opinions on Bobbi knowing the information off the top of her head, she didn’t share them. 

“Excellent. If you wouldn’t mind, I have a few more questions for you. I’d feel bad making you come all the way out here and not get a proper interview.” There was that smile again - like May knew something Bobbi didn’t. Granted, the other woman probably knew a lot of things Bobbi didn’t. Still, Bobbi didn’t quite understand why May had the reputation she did. She definitely seemed enigmatic and willful, but hard to work with? No, not to Bobbi’s eyes. Maybe that would change.

Bobbi settled further back in her chair, and found she was smiling. “I’d be happy to answer anything you have to ask.”

\---

“Piper. Piper. _Piper_.” Okay, maybe repeating her friend’s name over and over wasn’t going to help Bobbi at all, but she had started rambling the minute Bobbi had called her after the interview and hadn’t stopped to so much as breathe during Bobbi’s entire drive home.

“Piper!” Saying it a little louder finally got Piper to stop talking, at least long enough for Bobbi to rush out what she had to say. “I’m home now but I’ll call you when I’m done with dinner, okay?”

“But you still haven’t told me whether or not May asked to suck your blood!”

“...You never asked that question,” Bobbi said, wrinkling her nose. She balanced her phone between her cheek and shoulder as she struggled to pull her keys out of her bag. “And do you _really_ think that’s something someone would do at an interview?”

“You said it wasn’t an interview.”

“I mean, it wasn’t a scary interview.” Bobbi finally got her keys out of her purse and slid into the lock. “I’ll tell you more when you’re ready to listen instead of just spewing stories about May, okay?”

“Sorry,” Piper said sheepishly. 

“You’re fine, babe. I’ll call you later.”

“You’d better. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Bobbi said. She hung up and stepped through the door to her apartment, smiling when she immediately had three sets of puppy dog eyes staring at her, silently begging for news.

“I think it went okay,” Bobbi announced with a nervous smile. 

Hunter grabbed Jemma before their girlfriend could bowl into Bobbi. “Let her take the heels off before you knock her over, love.” 

Bobbi shot him a grateful look, stepping out of her heels with a soft sigh. She hadn’t been wearing them for long, all things considered, but her arches were protesting nonetheless. Without her shoes she didn’t tower over her partners quite as much, which had the added bonus of making it easier to lean down and kiss Fitz.

Hunter released Jemma a moment later, and Bobbi buried her nose in her girlfriend’s hair, inhaling deeply. The last bit of nerves she had been holding onto evaporated with the familiar scent of Jemma’s shampoo, and Bobbi rested her cheek on top of Jemma’s head. The peace and contentment that came with coming home was new, but not unwelcome.

“I’m sure you did great,” Jemma said earnestly. 

“Of course she did,” Hunter agreed. “Thoughts on dinner?” he directed to Bobbi.

“You don’t need to make anything special for me,” Bobbi protested. 

“Did she just say she didn’t like my cooking?” Hunter’s face morphed into a pout. “Fitz, did you hear that? Bob doesn’t like my cooking.”

“You are impossible.” If Bobbi had been close enough to the couch to grab a pillow, she would’ve thrown one at Hunter. “Seriously. I’m fine.”

“It sounds like she doesn’t like your cooking,” Fitz agreed. The traitor.

“Why don’t you like Hunter’s cooking, Bobbi?” Jemma turned her face up to look at Bobbi with wide brown eyes. It was at that moment Bobbi remembered her girlfriend was an actress - there wasn’t so much as a hint in her eyes she was anything other than serious.

“Hunter is an asshole who knows I will eat anything he puts in front of me,” Bobbi grumbled.

“How dare I want to make a meal you enjoy after you had an important interview,” Hunter sighed. “I mean, I’m the worst boyfriend ever. You should just get rid of me.”

“I’m not getting rid of you!” Bobbi snapped, sharper than she meant to. Hunter recoiled, and Jemma’s arms dropped from around her. Bobbi wiped a hand across her eyes, realizing belatedly she had probably smeared her makeup everywhere. 

“Right,” he said flatly. “I’ll go start on that, then.”

Bobbi squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and when she opened them, Hunter had retreated to the kitchen. Fitz and Jemma were hovering nervously, and Bobbi sighed. She shucked off her blazer, which Jemma took before Bobbi could throw it onto one of the chairs. She padded into the kitchen, where Hunter was, predictably, not preparing to cook. He was braced against the edge of the counter, his grip white-knuckled.

“I think we might need a new rule,” Bobbi whispered as she approached him.

“What’s that?” Hunter’s voice trembled, and a soft whine caught in Bobbi’s throat. She hated when he was upset.

“No talking about leaving, or getting rid of each other, or anything like that. Even as a joke.” She stopped as close to Hunter as she dared, fidgeting slightly. Being barefoot in her kitchen but still in a pencil skirt left her oddly off-balance.

“I didn’t mean -”

“I know.” Bobbi dropped her chin to her chest, staring at her chipped toenail polish. “But…”

Hunter slung his arm around her shoulders, and Bobbi startled slightly before leaning into him. “But,” he agreed. They had too much history for any joke about leaving to feel like _just_ a joke. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too. You were just trying to do something nice and I was being difficult.”

“Luckily I have a thing for difficult women.” Bobbi didn’t have to turn her head to see the smile on his face. 

“Jemma’s not difficult.”

“Not for you she isn’t,” Hunter chuckled. “But the rest of us have to abide by a color-coded planner or face her wrath.”

“Are you spreading rumors about me?” Jemma asked, poking her head into the kitchen.

“I don’t know what would give you that impression,” Hunter said lightly. “I’m just giving my Bob a hug.”

“Your Bob?” she said under her breath.

“Hush, or I’ll start calling you my hellbeast.”

Bobbi smiled and buried her face in Hunter’s neck, the uneasiness in her stomach forgotten when she breathed in the sharp tang of his cologne. 

“Rule accepted, in case I didn’t make that clear,” Hunter murmured as Fitz and Jemma filtered into the kitchen. “Go get changed before dinner, love.”

“Spaghetti?” Bobbi asked hopefully.

“Whatever makes you happy.” Hunter kissed her cheek before she retreated to the bedroom to change and get ready for her celebratory meal.

\---

“Ouch, Fitz!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Fitz said. Bobbi couldn’t turn her head to see what had happened to Fitz and Jemma, but she had a fairly good idea. Learning to braid hair was rarely a pleasant experience for either the braider or the person whose hair was being braided. Jemma was patient, though, sitting on the living room floor with Fitz perched on the sofa above her. Bobbi and Hunter mirrored their positions, with Bobbi on the floor and Hunter on the sofa.

“It’s easier if you don’t pull quite so hard, love.” Hunter said. “Save that for the bedroom, yeah?”

Bobbi pinched Hunter’s leg. Now was not the time for innuendo. 

“All I wanted was to learn a bloody braid,” Fitz muttered. He didn’t sound like he realized he was speaking loud enough for all his partners to hear, but no one corrected him. “Braid your girlfriend’s hair, Fitz, it’ll be bloody romantic! Not when I’m pulling it out of her head.”

Jemma couldn’t hold back her snort-laugh then, and she pulled her hair out of Fitz’s hands when she doubled forward with the force of her laughter.

“Hate to tell you this, mate, but hair-braiding is only romantic after you know how to do it, and then you get a truckload of questions about how you learned.” Hunter dropped Bobbi’s hair, and she took that as her cue to lean back against his knees. “This one gave me the third degree the first time I offered to do her hair.”

“I gave you the third degree after you told me -”

“Ah ah,” Hunter said, covering Bobbi’s mouth with his hand. “We’re not going to talk about that.”

Bobbi huffed mutinously, then ran her tongue over Hunter’s palm so he would take his hand off her mouth. He didn’t. 

“Promise,” he demanded.

Bobbi nodded, and was released.

“It was a nice thought,” Bobbi said, reaching over to pat Fitz’s knee. “But really, I think it’s just as nice just to have my hair played with.”

Fitz still looked rather put out, even when Jemma agreed with Bobbi’s assessment.

“Here,” Hunter said, grabbing for Fitz. “Put your head in my lap.”

Fitz obeyed immediately, and Jemma copied his motion so her head was in Bobbi’s lap. Bobbi let her girlfriend squirm for a moment until her cheek was comfortably rested on Bobbi’s thigh. It was only natural for Bobbi to reach down and tangle her fingers through Jemma’s hair. 

It was something she’d done since she was a child, touching Jemma like this. Even when they were friends they’d absentmindedly run their hands through each other’s hair. When Bobbi had chopped her hair into a bob in high school, Jemma had touched it before even commenting on whether or not she liked it. A hundred summer nights they’d spent just like this, but on the floor of Bobbi’s childhood bedroom instead of her apartment living room. 

This made sense, even before Jemma let out a sound halfway between a hum and a purr. It felt different now, with the relationship between them forever changed, but it still made sense. 

Behind Bobbi, Fitz’s breathing was slowly evening out as he relaxed, and she couldn’t help the smile on her face. Using Hunter’s legs as her backrest and hearing Fitz’s steady inhales and exhales made sense, too - like this was where she was always meant to end up.

She kept petting Jemma’s head, the hypnotic motion of running her hands through soft brunette hair soothing Bobbi as much as it did her girlfriend. She kept wanting to say something, to give voice to the _rightness_ of it all, but she was worried she’d ruined the sanctity of the moment. It was nice, though, not to have to worry everyone else would feel the same. Bobbi knew they did.

Jemma rolled over so she was facing Bobbi instead of turned away. Bobbi brushed the stray locks of hair out of Jemma’s face, heart nearly oozing out of her chest when Jemma smiled up at her.

“Hi,” Jemma said.

“Hi.” Bobbi smiled, pushing her hand through Jemma’s hair again. The motion seemed to have a soporific effect, and Jemma’s eyes fluttered closed before snapping open, like she was fighting sleep.

“This is nice.”

“It is,” Bobbi agreed, curling over to press a kiss to Jemma’s forehead. “You sleepy?”

“A little.” Jemma’s lips curved into a soft smile. “But I don’t want to miss this.”

“Hmm?”

“Being here with you. With them.” Jemma’s eyes flickered over Bobbi’s shoulder, where Fitz and Hunter were cuddled on the couch. “You’re not the only one who thought this would never happen, you know.”

Bobbi didn’t know that, actually. She tried not to think about that first night too much - the looming shadow of a cancelled wedding, the uncertainty she would ever be wanted, even the eventual coming together at the end. She much preferred it now, when she felt grounded. When she did think back to their first night, though, what Bobbi remembered was feeling like everyone else was already seven steps ahead of her. Fitz and Hunter, especially, had seemed to know from the start where they’d all end up.

Jemma, apparently, hadn’t.

“Don’t start looking at me like that,” Jemma said through a yawn. “You don’t need to feel guilty. But you do need to know you’re not alone in this. In any of this.”

“What she said.”

Bobbi nearly jumped out of her skin. Hunter had been listening to their quiet conversation, and she hadn’t realized.

“I know I’m not alone,” Bobbi said. And she did. Physically, she wasn’t alone, but their story was so much more than physical. She didn’t need to be with people - she needed to be _with_ people, with people who understood her fears and hopes and dreams. She’d found them right in front of her nose, where she’d never thought to look before. 

“Do you promise?” 

“Do you need me to pinkie swear, Jem?” Bobbi asked.

“I wouldn’t say no.” Jemma yawned again. “But really, I just don’t want you to be alone again.”

Hunter made a noise of affirmation. Bobbi didn’t allow herself to consider how much she’d worried the two of them over the past year.

“I won’t be,” Bobbi said softly. “I’ve got you.”

“Oi!”

“The royal you, Hunter!” Bobbi laughed. “As in, you, and you, and you.”

“You could’ve turned around. Would’ve made that bit much clearer,” Hunter sniffed.

“Yes, but then I’d wake Fitz up.” Bobbi had noticed his lack of input and quickly deduced Fitz was sleeping; there was no other way he wouldn’t be tripping over himself to promise never to leave her alone again.

“You won’t wake him up by turning around. He’s knackered, poor thing. Spent most of the morning pacing and the rest of it wringing his hands.”

“He worries too much,” Jemma added.

“We all worry too much when it comes to this one.” Hunter rested his hand on the top of Bobbi’s head, and she let her eyes close at the firm weight of it. “It’s our job.”

“I don’t want you to waste your time worrying about me,” Bobbi insisted.

“It’s not a -” Jemma began.

“- waste. Fine. Then stop _using_ your time worrying about me. I’m okay.” Bobbi opened her eyes, and for a moment just focused on the blank wall opposite her. She had spent so much energy insisting over and over she was fine that she hadn’t taken time to appreciate how true it was. She was more than fine. She was great - and she wasn’t alone anymore. She would never be alone anymore, even if Melinda May called her back and told her the campaign wouldn’t take her. 

“Let’s get him to bed,” Bobbi said, breaking the hush that had fallen over the room. “He has to work tomorrow.”

Jemma slowly uncurled herself, standing shakily. Bobbi followed her, then supervised Hunter as he stood and scooped up a sleeping Fitz.

“Don’t drop him!” Bobbi fretted.

“I’m not going to!” Hunter paused just long enough to peck Bobbi on the mouth. “I never dropped you, did I?”

“How would I know? I was asleep.”

Hunter chuckled under his breath, then followed Jemma into the bedroom. He set Fitz down on the bed carefully, and together the three of them tucked him in. 

“It’s funny,” Hunter said as he slid into bed beside Fitz. “I knew I liked him from the moment he threatened me -” Bobbi snorted at that description “- but I didn’t think I would love him so easily.”

“He’s special,” Bobbi said, snuggling into Hunter’s other side. 

“You’re special.” Now free from carrying Fitz, Hunter could kiss her more thoroughly, his tongue darting through her mouth teasingly. “Both my girls are,” he added, reaching across Fitz to squeeze Jemma’s hand.

“I suppose I should say you’re special too,” Bobbi sighed.

“I’ll say it for you.” Bobbi knew Jemma was rolling her eyes even if she wasn’t able to see it in the dark. “You’re special to me, Lance.”

Hunter let out a pleased little rumble before pulling Bobbi in tight to his chest. 

Bobbi was the last to fall asleep - Jemma fell off in just a minute, but Hunter held on a little longer. Three sets of deep, steady breathing kept her company even as her partners slumbered on, and Bobbi relished being absolutely un-alone.


	15. Chapter 15

A shrill sound filled the room, and it took Bobbi’s sleep-fogged brain several seconds to process the sound was a cell phone ringing. Someone grumbled beside her, and Bobbi grunted back her agreement that it was too early for phone calls.

Oh, shit. May had said she was going to call today.

Bobbi bolted upright and immediately regretted not sleeping at the outer edge of the bed. She needed to reach over Jemma to get to her phone, and her girlfriend was decidedly not happy about it. Bobbi gave Jemma a conciliatory pat on the cheek before accepting the call.

“Bobbi Morse speaking.” She was a goddamn professional woman, and she was going to answer the phone like one, too.

“Hi, Bobbi. Is now a good time to talk?”

“Yup!” Bobbi said, cringing at her own chirpiness. Jemma was fully awake now, and Hunter was also peering up at her with hopeful eyes. She held up her finger to indicate she was waiting on the answer, and Hunter took the moment of pause to elbow Fitz awake, too.

“I chatted with our investors and they’re willing to see things my way,” May said. “The numbers we discussed last week are still acceptable for you?”

“Yeah, yes, definitely.” Bobbi’s chest clenched.

“Then I’ll need you to stop by the office sometime this week to sign your official contract and receive your shooting schedule. Obviously we’re a bit behind where we wanted to be, so it’s going to be a fall collection instead of summer, but I’m glad we took the time we needed to get the right people for the job.” May didn’t say it in so many words, but Bobbi heard _I’m glad we waited for you._

“Awesome, yeah, whatever you need from me. Thank you so much.”

“I’ll be in touch by email to schedule a time.”

“Great!” Oh God, she was being overenthusiastic. She took a deep breath before speaking again. “I look forward to seeing you soon.”

“Have a nice day, Bobbi. Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Bobbi punched the button to end the call, and as soon as she was sure Melinda May wasn’t listening to her any longer, she let out a squeal.

“I got the job!” she shouted, though her partners knew that already since they were listening to her side of the conversation.

Her celebration was abruptly cut short when a cell phone rang again. Bobbi frowned, wondering if May had forgotten to tell her something, but it wasn’t her phone ringing - it was Fitz’s.

He grabbed it from the side table on his side of the bed and cleared his throat of sleep before answering. “Hullo?”

Pause. “This is he.”

The second silence stretched much longer, and Bobbi stared at him. If she looked hard enough, maybe she would magically be able to hear who was calling him, and why.

“Yes, ma’am.” Beat. “Yes, ma’am,” Fitz repeated. “Of course. Yes, I’ll send you my availability as soon as possible.” Suddenly Fitz blushed, his cheeks going past pink, through red, and eventually to a purplish color. “Yes, she is. Thank you. Goodbye.”

He threw his phone onto the bed, and let out a breath. “I guess I have a job now, too?” He looked at Bobbi curiously, and it was her turn to blush. She might have forgotten to tell Fitz she was giving his number to May.

If he was upset, he certainly had a funny way of showing it, because he leaned over to kiss her gently, his hand briefly coming up to cradle her cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” he mumbled against her mouth.

Bobbi’s gaze flickered down, a pleased glow lighting up her cheeks. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Fitz moved his hand to curl around the back of her neck. “You would’ve been just fine without me.”

“I really wouldn’t have.” Bobbi swallowed hard. Without Fitz she never would’ve gotten Jemma or Hunter back. She would’ve been alone and miserable and unable to do anything about it.

Fitz tilted his head so his forehead was resting on hers. “Then I’m glad you have me.”

“Me too.”

The sheets rustled and Bobbi looked up to see Jemma and Hunter attempting to slip out of the bed, presumably to give her and Fitz some time alone together. Her heart stumbled in her chest, and she reached her hands out for them. She didn’t want them to go.

“I need to get breakfast started,” Hunter said apologetically, grabbing her outstretched hand and squeezing it once before dropping it. “Need to celebrate this momentous occasion, yeah?”

Wordlessly, Bobbi shuffled off the edge of the bed, pulling Fitz along with her. 

“You don’t have to -”

“I want to be together right now,” Bobbi said, and that was that. Whatever guilt Hunter and Jemma felt about intruding on her and Fitz’s moment went unacknowledged - Bobbi knew it was hopeless to insist it wasn’t an intrusion at all. She felt the same way sometimes if she walked in on the others being together. There were certainly private moments, even in a relationship of four, but that hadn't been one of them. She wanted all her people to share in how far she’d come, and how they’d all helped her get there.

The hit of adrenaline from May’s phone call still hadn’t worn off, and Bobbi couldn’t force herself to sit. Instead she hovered behind Hunter as he made breakfast. He was a much better cook than the rest of them, and Bobbi had to admit she ate better now that he was basically living with her.

Speaking of…

“Do you want to move in?”

At first Bobbi wasn’t sure anyone had heard her question, because they were all freakishly quiet. She shifted her weight back onto her heels, wondering if she’d made an error in calculation. She shoved down her urge to run back into the bedroom and hide, giving everyone time to process what she had just said.

“Do you want us to move in?” Jemma asked.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want it,” Bobbi said, confused as to why that was a question at all. “I feel… I feel like me when you all are around. And I don’t want you to ever stop being around.” It wasn’t like anyone left for long - at most they spent a night apart, and even then it was more likely they’d just come home from work an hour or so late after grabbing whatever it was they needed from their respective apartment.

“You know we can be around without living together, right?” Hunter asked. Bobbi’s nostrils flared and he held up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “I’m just saying, I don’t want this to be something you do because you’re worried we’re going to scarper.”

“I know,” Bobbi said firmly. “I know, and I want you. I want -” She forced herself to take a deep breath, slowing down the tidal wave of words begging to crash out of her. “I want every morning to be like this morning.”

Her partners considered her declaration again, and Bobbi had to admire how level-headed the three of them were being. Asking the question had been more impulsive than Bobbi would like to admit. It’d been swirling around in the back of her mind since the first night they’d spent together and the absolute safety surrounding her when she woke up in the morning. She wanted that safety every morning - knowing she would wake up beside people who cared about her, who wanted her, who saw the best in her.

And sure, getting good news every morning would be a bonus, but even without the good news… She liked this. This _fit_.

“Most of our belongings are here anyways,” Jemma said, ever the logical one. “It does seem silly to continue to pay for a space we never use.”

“I think Bob was maybe hoping for an emotional declaration, Jem.” Hunter turned away from the stove so he could catch Bobbi in an unexpected hug. “Come on, Fitzy, time to wax poetic about how much you love her.”

“Me?” Fitz spluttered. “Why don’t you do it!?”

“Because I’m the hugger, and you’re the talker,” Hunter said, kissing the shell of Bobbi’s ear. “Next time start hugging faster.”

“Next time,” Fitz grumbled. “There’s not going to be a next time.”

“Oh, just wait until we have to talk about marriage.” Laughter laced Hunter’s voice, and if Bobbi hadn’t been so content wrapped up in his arms, she might have pulled away from him just to roll her eyes. She was moving fast, but not _that_ fast.

“Bobbi,” Fitz said, electing to ignore Hunter’s last comment, “we all love you and would like very much to always be there for you. This place has become our home whether we like it or not… and I think we all like it.” Bobbi buried her face in Hunter’s neck to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes, sniffling slightly.

“I told you I’m not leaving again,” Hunter added. “I needed a new address for my ‘if lost, please return to’ shirt anyways.”

“I think what we mean to say, but are doing a fairly poor job of actually saying, is yes, Bobbi, we’d love to move in.” Jemma said. She padded over the tile of the kitchen floor so she could wrap her arms around Bobbi and Hunter. “Besides, it’s only economical -” Jemma cut off abruptly, and if Bobbi had to guess, she’d say someone else pinched her. Fitz, given how he joined the group hug a moment after Jemma went quiet.

“We can carpool,” Fitz said.

“As much as I love this group hug, I want to make sure breakfast doesn’t burn.” Hunter ducked out of the circle of arms, leaving Bobbi with just Jemma and Fitz. She held them closer, right arm around Jemma and left around Fitz. Even without the solid presence of Hunter and his _amazingly_ muscled body, she still had no doubt she was safe.

“You know I love you,” Jemma half-said, half-asked.

“Of course,” Bobbi replied. “And I love you, too, which includes loving your practicality.”

Jemma smiled, and Bobbi relished having said the right thing. Maybe others saw Jemma as cold or detached or too analytical, but Bobbi saw it for what it was - a way of caring.

“And you all love me and my ability to cook the best eggs this side of the Atlantic,” Hunter announced. “Table, now.”

“We also love your modesty,” Jemma said, straight-faced.

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll remind you I’m the only one in this household not seeking fame and fortune, so I am, objectively, the most modest of all of us.” Hunter continued herding the rest of them to the table.

“I’m not seeking fame and fortune,” Fitz muttered.

“You’re working for Melinda May, and from what I hear, that’s the same thing.”

“How did you hear about May?” Bobbi asked as Hunter shovelled eggs onto her plate, followed by several strips of bacon.

“Piper told me.” Hunter departed from the table, off to grab more of their breakfast, leaving Bobbi behind to worry.

She had never stopped to consider the implications of introducing Piper to all her partners by name - she hadn’t thought about what would happen if they became friends. Jemma and Piper would be fine. They’d talk about being gay and doing crimes and all the usual things. Fitz and Piper would be an odd couple, definitely. But Hunter and Piper… that sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. There was too much chaotic energy between the two of them for their friendship to be anything other than hell on wheels.

“You don’t need to look like I just told you your rabbit died!” Hunter said, smacking a kiss on Bobbi’s cheek when he returned to the table, carton of orange juice and bottle of champagne in his hands. “She just wanted me to tell her if she should never mention Melinda’s name around you ever again.”

Bobbi rolled her eyes. “Let me guess, she wanted to know if the two of you could get away with TPing May’s office.”

“Something like that. Fitzy and I - _ouch_ , Fitz!”

“Hunter and I have never, ever, _ever_ done anything with the intent of driving someone out of the city permanently.” Cold fear dripped down the back of Bobbi’s throat, and she gripped her fork tighter to keep her thoughts from straying to… him. She hadn’t thought about him for a long time, and she didn’t want to ruin a perfectly good morning when the boys had apparently taken care of everything.

“You two would make horrible secret agents,” Jemma commented drily.

“So would you!” Fitz protested. “You can’t lie!”

“I would make an excellent secret agent,” Bobbi said, desperate to move the conversation away from anything even tangentially related to Ward.

“Of course you would, you’re amazing at everything,” Hunter said. 

“Flatterer.”

“Have to earn my keep somehow,” he grinned. “Now, who wants mimosas?” He had been standing there with the ingredients for long enough for Bobbi to figure out that was his game, but the tendrils of love and tranquility winding around her heart didn’t fade even when she knew his purpose.

Bobbi’s phone buzzed again, and she froze, peace suddenly evaporated. May had decided this was a bad idea. That was the only explanation for why she was getting a text from an unknown number. Everything was horrible and -

“You alright, love?” Hunter asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’m -” _freaking out_ would have been the most honest answer, but Bobbi wasn’t quite sure how to explain why she was so anxious. Maybe it was just worry that everything she wanted would be ripped away just after she finally had it.

She turned to read the text, and her shoulders sagged.

_Forgot to tell you. Campaign title’s been confirmed._

Okay, so maybe everything wasn’t horrible, and she had been overreacting.

Her phone buzzed again, and Bobbi found herself fighting tears as she looked at the title for Melinda May’s campaign.

It was everything she had searched for since the beginning of the summer, everything she’d been hoping to find - in others, but mostly in herself. It was strange to see her life reflected back at her in just two simple words, and once again she was struck by how life could suddenly make sense, if only you found the right pieces.

Bobbi just kept staring, even when someone’s foot nudged hers under the table, concern an undercurrent in the silence none of her partners were willing to break.

“Well?” Hunter prompted when a minute passed and Bobbi still hadn’t spoken.

“She told me the title,” Bobbi explained, sniffing again. “It’s perfect.”

Before they could ask what she meant, Bobbi placed her phone on the table so all three of them could see the most recent text May had sent.

_Beautiful People._

“It’s a good thing they’ve got you, or the title wouldn’t be all that accurate,” Hunter said after his eyes had flicked over the screen.

“Shut up,” she said, but the words lacked heat.

“Love you,” Hunter said, dimples appearing at the corners of his mouth when he smiled.

“I love you too.” When she said it, she wasn’t looking just at Hunter - she was looking at all of them.

Maybe the campaign was lucky to have her - maybe not. All Bobbi knew for sure was that _she_ was lucky to have her partners, and always be surrounded by beautiful people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all they wrote!
> 
> I wanted to take this chance to thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, for sticking with me through this ride. I know the world has gotten a lot crazier since this story started, and I hope reading it was as much of a solace for you as writing it was for me. A huge thank you to my amazing beta, [Elle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gort/pseuds/Gort), who made this fic everything you see before you with her insight and support. Thank you also to all the folks in Earth vs Space who listened to me panic at least once a week - your kindness and patience is more appreciated than I can express.
> 
> If you're interested in seeing what other projects I'm cooking up, I'd love to see you on [tumblr](https://bobbimorseisbisexual.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Until next time,  
> Al


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